10Tens
by Epitome of Randomness
Summary: A collection of oneshots. Multiple pairings, but mostly Dalek. Features Everybody Wants Deryn Sharp, the Ten Songs Challenge, Ten Ways To Tell Everyone You're A Girl, Ten Crossovers, Ten Kisses and Ten Ways To Say I Love You. COMPLETE.
1. Everybody Wants Deryn Sharp

**10Tens! Basically, it's going to be ten chapters of ten drabbles each, centered around a theme or certain character, like Deryn, or something like 'Ten times Volger was vulgar.'**

**But first off, this is one of those 'fandom bicycle' fics where you take one character and pair them with as many others as you can. I got inspired by 'Everyone Wants Artemis Fowl,' which is on my favourites list. **

**I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you enjoy reading it.**

**WARNINGS: Slash. Volger is also vulgar, coincidentally enough. It's all played for humor though.**

**DISCLAIMER: I am not Scott Westerfeld.**

**Everybody Wants Deryn Sharp**

**(Alternatively titled)**

**Ten Not-At-All Holy Matrimonies**

_**Wrong, Wrong, Wrong.**_

_Dylan/Alek_

It was wrong of him to think of Dylan this way. Dylan, his closest and only friend. Friend. _Male_ friend. Male friend as in another boy. Boy as in the same gender. Same gender as in – oh, enough.

You weren't supposed to see platonic male friends in dreams, especially the dreams he'd been having as of late…

God above, what was he going to do? If his feelings (wrong, wrong, wrong feelings) got out, it would be the last straw. Volger would have no qualms about leaving him and heading back to Austria. Pausing only to throw him off the spine.

It was unnatural, more than a giant flying whale or bats that…expelled spikes.

"What are you standing round for? Doctor Barlow is looking for you," said Dylan.

Alek felt his face turn red. He nodded, lest his voice come out in a squeak.

"You all right?"

He nodded again.

Dylan gave him a weird (beautiful) smile and walked on.

Alek felt his burning cheeks and nearly kicked himself. "Stupid, stupid," he muttered. "Wrong."

_**Handle It**_

_Deryn/Barlow_

"Men. No matter how hard you try, whatever you do. Deryn, you saved the crew from death and yet here you are-"

"Nora, it's fine. I'm just…I didn't think Alek would do something like that. He was, he was – it was like I'd sprouted another head, or something."

"I think Alek might have been a bit too fond of Dylan. To him, you killed Dylan and then tried to replace him."

"But I AM Dylan. Just uh, different chromosomes and reproductive organs and...well...Whaddya mean, _too fond _of Dylan?"

"I won't go into it now."

"What's not to go into?"

"Ever heard of…no. You're too young."

"Nora, I've seen men with their faces blown off, I've fought on the battlefield, been captured by the enemy and been shot. I think I can handle it."

"Well. Perhaps I can show you…"

"…Ah."

"Yes."

"I don't mind this at all."

_**Dance Of The Bipeds**_

_Deryn/Leviathan_

At first I was unsure of her/him. A him/her walking around inside me, tricking all of them/the crew. Yet her/him has grown on me, and in me, in so many ways. I am proud of him/her, that little trickster/joker.

I watch him/her watch him/Alek and blush, and I watched Alek/him watch her/him, thinking him/her was a him, not a her. He/Alek was glad she/Deryn was a her. Glad to the point of being rather unhygienic about that/this.

I watched him/her and her/him in their little human/biped dance and oh, how I wish I could take part. Why could I not have been made human?

_**Through The Looking Glass**_

_Deryn/Dylan_

"So, whaddya think?"

Deryn turned her head this way and that.

"My ears are cold," she said. "But…"

Jaspert put down the scissors. "You look alright. With the uniform on, they'd never know. I reckon, anyway"

Deryn nodded. "If you go, I'll try it on."

"Yep. Call me back when it's on."

The door shut and Deryn wriggled out of her dress and pulled on the pants, shirt and jacket, reveling in the freedom she'd gained.

Then she caught sight of herself in the mirror.

Or, rather, her male self.

She tilted her head.

She pirouetted.

She pouted.

She posed.

Blisters, but she was a good-looking fellow.

"I'd dance with this." Deryn said.

She leaned forward and gave the mirror a lick.

It was then her brother lost patience and burst in…

_**Not This Time**_

_Alek/Deryn, Deryn/OC_

She's here again. She's got that look, that gorgeous, evil, smart, _sexy _look.

No! Idiot – don't ask her to sit! This is the Emperors wife. It's practically treason and besides…

"He's not the man I married."

Tell her she should have expected that. Tell her to go, be the Empress and rule fairly. She shouldn't be here in this inn, dirt all over the floor and - for Gods sake, don't!

"I knew it would be hard, but…"

She's the darling of this Empire and of England. The gutsy girl who stopped the war and stole the heart of Prince Aleksander to boot.

Don't hold her hand, don't hold her hand!

"You were there too, the whole time. I should never have…"

Tell her to leave, and never come back. Why are you here, too? Why do you do this to yourself, to her, to him, to your wife?

"I can't stay long."

"At least you're here."

This is too real and perfect to stop, but too dangerous and wrong to continue.

And you still let it happen.

_**Oh, You Mean Fencing**_

_Deryn/Volger_

It was strange, thought Carson, leaning against the door. Every morning Midshipman Sharp would bring Volger his breakfast and insist on waiting for the tray inside.

"Good morning," the boy would say.

Carson would nod, and open the door for him, revealing Volger (as he always was) seated at his desk, nose in his paper.

"Thanks very much." Sharp would say, and enter. "I'll wait for the tray."

And Carson would nod, and shut the door, and listen to the strange shouts and commands, and salute anyone who walked by, trying not to listen to Volger…

"Hold it looser, boy! You'll break something!"

_**The Important-est**_

_Deryn/Bovril_

"_Mr_ Sharp."

Oh, if only silly Alek knew how silly he really is, not knowing that _Mr_ Sharp is actually not _Mr_ Sharp, but in fact a Miss Sharp and that is important. Alek is the silly-est.

I like Miss Sharp.

She is smart and sneaky and shrewd and sly, for she has suckered the entire British Air Force into thinking she is un-man. Smart-est, and sneaky-est and shrewd-est and sly-est.

I like Miss Sharp a lot. I like her the most-est.

"_Mr_ Sharp."

An awful lot.

Sometimes I hope to the Maker silly Alek never smarts up.

I doubt he will. He is silly-est, after all.

_**Oh Really?**_

_Deryn/Lilit_

Lilit didn't let him finish, but threw her arms around him, kissing him hard on the lips. After a long moment she pulled away and smiled. "I'm sorry. I was just curious."

"Barking spiders!" said Dylan, touching his lips. "You don't even know me!"

"I know you better than you think, Mr. Sharp."

"Oh, really?" said Dylan. He grabbed Lilit by the shoulders and kissed her.

Lilit leant back, giggling. "Absolutely!"

And they were once again glued together.

Alek stifled a laugh, then backed away to give them a little privacy. The sucking noises grew louder, and he grinned. Maybe it would be easier to get Dylan to stay in Istanbul after all…

_**Spanner In The Works**_

_Deryn/Hans_

No one (except a certain Count who would remain nameless) had any idea of Dylan's – no, Deryn's true nature. They'd all found out last Tuesday, during an impromptu game of cricket. Dy-_Deryn_ hadn't studied that bit of being a boy…

And Alek had realized that…Deryn was so…right for him. Everything he'd ever wanted in a girl, and no one else would go for a woman who walked around in pants and could spit with the best of them.

Or so he'd thought. Alek frowned, remembering Dylan approaching him, hand in hand with Hans. A mechanik. A lowly mechanik, who could barely speak English.

And then, after months with Dylan and even a few days with Deryn, he couldn't help but wish it was him, not…

No. He should be happy for her.

But.

"Bis morgen." Deryn smiled into the telephone. "Ich liebe dich auch."

He should have known she wasn't improving her German for him.

_**Any Clothing…**_

_Deryn/Alek_

A rainy day in Glasgow, as per usual. Deryn stared gloomily out of the window, watching the grey sky turn white with bolts of lightning. She hoped there weren't any hydrogen breathers up there.

"Deryn dearest, you haven't finished your needlework."

"Sorry, mum." said the young woman.

"You really miss it, don't you?" asked Mary.

Deryn nodded, tears misting her vision. She blinked them back.

"I know I disapproved of you going, but seeing you, a decorated officer…Deryn, I was so proud of you. And friends with a prince!"

"Arch-duke. When he found out, he didn't want anything to do with me."

"Nonsense. He was probably just-"

There was a knock at the door.

"-I'll get it," said Mary. She set down her knitting and entered the hall.

Deryn watched the rain, but started when her mother nearly ran back into the room.

"It's for you." Mary said, smiling and taking her seat again.

Deryn picked up her skirts and made her way into the entry hall.

There was a tall, familiar man in a dress uniform waiting for her, a nervous smile on his face.

"I've been looking for you."

"You should've looked faster!"

Deryn threw herself into Alek's arms and kissed him so hard they fell out of the front door and into a puddle.

Didn't matter, anyway. What they had planned didn't involve any clothing.

**I love a happy ending. I also love reviews :D**

**Hope you enjoyed it – thanks for reading.**

**-Nicola.**

**Wait, Deryn and Volger? *washes hands***


	2. Everybody Loves The Beatles

**I felt like jumping on a bandwagon or two, so I decided to do the ten songs challenge, so I set up my iPod and my notebook, and wrote and wrote and at song four I went:**

**Wait just one cotton-picking minute.**

**These are all Beatles songs.**

**This wasn't actually that weird as I love the Beatles and they take up the majority of my iPod.**

**Then I got to song five. Beatles. Six. Beatles. Seven, eight, nine, ten. Beatles, Beatles, Beatles, Beatles.** **Finally, I realized I was in the 'Artist' section.**

**I felt a little stupid, and a bit too discouraged to try again. And so here we are.**

**WARNINGS: Fluff ahead, and character deaths (offscreen.)**

**DISCLAIMER: I am not Scott Westerfeld and I don't own anything by the Beatles.**

**Everybody Loves The Beatles**

**(Alternatively titled)**

**Ten Songs Challenge: Beatles Style.**

**I've Just Seen A Face**

"_I've missed things and kept out of sight, but other girls were never quite like this…"_

"Wow."

She looks at you funny. "Hello?"

You cough and blink. She's so… "Good morning." you say. And then you bow, because you're an idiot.

You remember your father telling you about the first day he met mother. Stunned. Astounded_. Like he'd been hit by a walker_ was the exact term.

"Close your mouth, you ninny." she says. "I'm Deryn. I'm Dylan's s-cousin."

"He never told me he had a cousin like…you."

She smiles and oh God above, you've never seen a smile like that before.

**Let It Be**

"_When the night is cloudy, there is still a light in front of me – shine on till tomorrow, let it be."_

I wish my parents were here. An obvious, nee, cliché wish, but still. I know they would be proud to bursting. Father and mother always told me to marry for love, knowing I'd never need to marry for political reasons. They told me to look for pen pals, peer out of the carriage windows when we passed through town.

"Do you see anyone, son? We can ask the driver to stop."

And I wouldn't see anyone, just plain, uneducated girls immersed in boring, insignificant lives. I hate who I was then, seeing others as unimportant. And then there was meeting the Romanovs and distant Hapsburg cousins and even English royalty and thinking of them as narrow minded and boring and…Unimportant in their royalness, if that makes sense.

Which it doesn't, I think.

But Deryn. She's everything a man _shouldn't_ want. Ask me why and I can't tell you. I just saw her standing there and…and I love her.

Now, though. My parents would like Deryn. Mother especially. She wouldn't have liked us getting married on top of a hydrogen breather, but…I can imagine her, and father up here with us, the wind blowing through their hair, whipping their clothes and smiling. The stars around us like diamonds.

Happy to let us be.

**Day Tripper**

"_Got a good reason, for taking the easy way out now."_

"Classic fool."

"Shut up, Volger."

"Young master-"

"No. You were right. We have to leave, and we have to leave now."

"This isn't something to be decided lightly. Here, we have such worth-"

"It took me so long to find out-"

"She hid it well. Fooled me until I first…you know, that's not important. So, Master. Sleep on it – you can stay in here if you don't want to see Mr…uh, Miss Sharp."

"I want to leave, Volger."

"Now you do. I think, perhaps, it would be better to ask Miss Sharp why she did, what she did. I think you can work it out."

**Across The Universe**

"_Images of broken light, which dance before me like a million eyes."_

_Glasgow, 1908_

She was counting stars, and she would do it this time. She wouldn't fall asleep, and if she did it really quietly, mother would completely forget about her. She wanted to forget about her, anyway.

"Seventy four, seventy five, seventy six…"

"What are you up to, honey?"

"I'm counting the stars." Deryn told her father. "Do you know how many there are?"

"Oh darling." He said. "More than there are numbers. Come on, it's time for dinner."

Deryn paused. "Why are there stars, da?"

Her father didn't even think about giving her the real answer. He wanted his daughter to see the magic of the universe for what it was.

"It's God's carnival."

"God's carnival…" said Deryn. She stared open mouthed at the cosmos. "A carnival of light."

_The Great Southern Ocean, 1915_

She was counting stars, and she would do it this time. She wouldn't fall asleep, and if she did it really quietly, Newkirk wouldn't find her and get her to do his egg shift.

"Two hundred and eleven, two hundred and twelve-"

"…Dylan?"

Deryn started and turned to see Alek, silhouetted against the Milky Way.

"What are you up to?"

"I'm counting the stars. They're so different to the ones in Glasgow. So-"

"New. Alive."

The Prince and the pauper sat and watched the universe tumble past.

_Glasgow, 1920_

She was counting stars, and she would do it this time. She wouldn't fall asleep, and if she did it really quietly her mother wouldn't find her and pull her in for another fitting.

"Four hundred and thirty, four hundred and thirty one, four hundred and thirty two-"

"Deryn, your mother is looking for you."

Deryn turned to her fiancé. "She's not going to find me."

"No, not while you're up here." Alek crawled awkwardly along a branch. "What are you up to?"

"I'm counting the-"

"I know. What number are you up to?"

"Four hundred and thirty two."

"Four hundred and thirty three, four hundred and thirty four…"

**Hello Little Girl***

"_So I hope there'll come a day when you say, you're my little girl."_

Deryn has told him. Everything is fine. Dude, it's cool. It's chill.

And now.

They're friends, nothing more.

But they don't fence anymore, and he can't touch her, because she's a _girl_ and it's not right, but she's Deryn and-

What are these weird, stupid feelings? Well, there's one solution. All he's got to do…

Well, and there's one question.

How do you ask a girl out on an airship?

**If I Needed Someone**

"_If I needed someone to love, you're the one I'd be thinking of."_

The church was in uproar, but he ignored it, staring into Ana's face. She was…was she smiling? She was, and looked excited, actually _excited_ for the first time.

"We're political! This is a political, _loveless _wedding, and it will be a political, loveless, lonely marriage." she said, pushing him down the stairs and into the aisle. "Neither of us wants this, we both know that. It's for no one! Go to her, and be happy."

"Anastasia-"

"Aleksander, go get that girl!"

"Tell Alexei-"

"I will make sure he doesn't declare war on you." The Russian Princess laughed and tugged her veil out of her hair.

"Uh-"

"Have a life of love. You can have that, choose that. I can't."

"Thank you for-"

"Go!" she yelled, and Alek dropped the rings and raced down the aisle after Deryn.

Damn, but she could run.

He'd catch her _this_ time.

**Do You Want To Know A Secret**

"_Closer, let me whisper in your ear."_

He'll never know how much I love him.

He'll never know how much I really care.

He can't know.

It has to stay a secret.

It's so…it hurts….it's _heavy._

God, God God it hurts. My chest feels like it's been ripped open, and there's blood, and it's everywhere, but I can't go to the infirmary. I know – I'll rip up the bedsheets. I can do without a blanket as long as I…it's so…heavy….I…

So…much…blood.

I feel a little dizzy.

No. No! Snap out of it. Stay awake. Stay awake…

**Eight Days A Week**

"_Eight days a week. It's not enough to show I care."_

"Ridiculous."

"Adorable."

"Pathetic."

"Oh, quiet."

"We're in the middle of a war zone – on a warship and those two are gallivanting about like they're on holiday!"

"Let them have their fun."

"No. I'm terrified of opening a door at the wrong moment."

"Then _knock_."

"I shouldn't have to."

"You may see them as an Emperor and a soldier-"

"Which they are."

"No. What they are, is a young man and a young…lady isn't what I'd call Deryn, but it's close enough. Ah. They're in love. It's only love, Volger. Let them be young."

"I suppose."

"And the war will be over soon. To them, it's the end of everything."

**She Said, She Said**

"_She said, 'I know what it's like to be dead.'"_

Deryn didn't want to be a nurse. She wasn't a good nurse – 'Stop being a baby and toughen up-' wasn't exactly stellar bedside manner. 'I've seen worse,' wasn't so unusual.

But she was the most popular nurse. Men would sit up in their beds and salute when she came on duty, white cap askew on her messy curls.

And they believed her when she said she'd seen worse, because then she'd hike up her skirt and show them the burns on her leg or tell them a story from when she'd masqueraded as a boy on an airship.

It didn't help she was pretty good looking, too.

**Two Of Us**

"_You and me Sunday driving, not arriving, on our way back home."_

"Grandmamma?"

"Yes?"

"I found this." Julia offered her Grandmother the dusty leather book. "In the attic, when we were trying on your old clothes."

Grandmamma blew the dust from the cover and smiled.

"The attic, hmmm? I've been looking for this. It's a photo album from a long time ago."

"How long? A hundred years? Two hundred?"

"Sixty four, dear. I'm not that old."

"Sixty?"

"Yes, ten times older than you. Look. It's from when me and your grandpapa were just married."

"But you're a lady and you're wearing pants!"

"Yes, dear." The old woman sat her granddaughter on her lap and pointed out a photo. "We met on the Leviathan. I was pretending to be a boy to fight in the Great War. Haven't I told you that story?"

"Nope."

"Well, maybe another time. When you're older." The woman recalled her secret being outed and winced. "Yes, much older. But when your grandpapa found out, he nearly fainted off the topside. Strange boy."

"Was he OK?"

"Of course he was! How else would you be here? Once he woke up and realized it wasn't a dream…" The woman trailed off and smiled to herself.

"Grandmamma?"

"He woke up and asked me to marry him."

"How romantic!"

"Hmmm…strange boy, he was."

"Yes. Tell me about the Leviathan, Grandmamma."

Deryn didn't hear, instead she ran her wrinkled fingers across the sepia faces, remembering voices, sights, sounds. Remembering Alek.

"God, I miss him."

*** Technically, 'Hello Little Girl,' is by the 'pre-Beatles,' a Ringo-less band called 'The Quarrymen.' But it's adorable. It's also featured in the film 'Nowhere Boy' about John Lennon.**

**I had a great time writing the dialogue-only drabbles. Sometimes it's really hard not including little descriptions, but I think they went quite well. I hope it's clear who people are!**

**If you could catch the Beatles references I put **_**in**_** the drabbles, props and virtual prizes to you :D There's a few in each drabble, some obvious, some not. I hope…**

**If you haven't listened to the Beatles or don't know much about them, RUN don't walk to your nearest YouTube link and SEARCH.**

**Seriously. They are always worth a listen, but if you're not sure where to start, I'd say start with their album 'Rubber Soul.' It's when they really started branching out as artists. Listen out for 'Norwegian Wood,' 'In My Life' and 'Run For Your Life' especially.**

**Or you could ask me…in a REVIEW!**

**Thanks for reading.**

**-Nicola.**


	3. Everybody Needs To Know

**I always wonder about the order to put drabbles in. I put Everybody Wants Deryn Sharp in funny-sad-funny order, and Everybody Loves The Beatles was of course in the order the songs came up. This collection, however, goes from most plausible discovery to least plausible, even if the ways it's revealed are a little…extreme. Some ways Deryn is/was found out are a little disguised, especially in All Those Years Ago but each drabble has a different method of discovery.**

**WARNINGS: Fair bit of violence and blood in these ones. No Volger/Deryn, though, so everything else is fine :D**

**DISCLAIMER: Not Scott.**

**Everybody Needs To Know**

**(Alternatively titled)**

**Ten Ways To Tell Everyone You're A Girl**

_**Perfectly Plotted Period**_

_In which menstruation happens._

"Dylan, oh my gosh. Wake up – please!"

"Mmph?" Deryn cracked open an eyelid. "Why?"

"You're bleeding."

"Hmm?"

"You're bleeding, there's blood in your bed."

That woke her up – it was like having adrenaline injected into her veins. Her _monthlies_. Her bloody monthlies, unexpected as usual.

She sat up, folding her arms across her chest. Yep, clear even in the silver pre-dawn light, brown-red blood had spotted the mattress, and there was a large stain under her…derriere. Yes, that was the word.

"Um." she began.

"We should get you to the infirmary. No, I'll get the Doctor."

"No!" Deryn almost shouted as Alek reached for his coat. "Um."

"Don't um…if you don't want the Doctor, at least let me see."

"NO!" She really did shout this time. "It's probably just a scratch."

"I've never seen blood that colour before. Except…" Alek drifted off, leant against the table.

The colour drained from Alek's face as he recalled one night, long ago, when he'd burst into his mother's chambers without knocking.

"Oh, God."

Deryn sighed.

"Oh God."

She unfolded her arms and leaned back slightly.

"OH GOD! YOU'RE A GIRL!"

And the dawn broke.

_**Busted**_

_In which Lilit is a bitch, and breasts and homosexuality are discussed._

Lilit smiled as Dylan excused himself from the table.

"So, Alek." she said. "Noticed anything strange about Dylan?"

Alek looked up, his mouth full of salad. "Hmm?" he swallowed and shook his head. "What do you mean?"

"Since you got back from Japan. Does he look…different to you?"

"Different?"

Lilit shrugged. "Acts different, looks different. I know I last saw you in 1914, but he just-"

"It's been two years. We've grown. Grant you, he hasn't so much-"

"He doesn't shave."

"Well, I haven't seen him-"

Alek speared a potato as if it had insulted his mother. "You keep bringing this up. I know what you think, and I don't care. I'm going to accept Dylan, no matter who he loves."

"What?"

"It may be wrong in the eyes of God, but-"

Lilit took a big gulp of wine. "You are a rich, good looking moron. _Dylan_." she added, as he re-entered. "Is there anything you want to tell Alek? After all, the war is over. Shouldn't you come out about it?"

"Dylan, it's fine. I don't care."

Dylan frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"I don't care if you're homosexual, Dylan."

Lilit spat out her drink. "She has breasts, Alek, breasts!"

It was Dylan's turn to spit out his drink. "Excuse me? Breasts?"

"Yes! Tell him! Tell him what you are!" Dylan threw down his knife and fork, laid his palms flat on the table.

It was then Alek noticed something weird.

"Dylan, why are your nails red?"

Lilit sighed and stood, walked behind Deryn as the poor girl stammered out an excuse.

"Excuse this!" she said, and ripped Deryn's shirt open.

_**Intimate Injuries**_

_In which men plummet to their deaths and Deryn is drugged._

The copters had appeared out of nowhere – silent against to the screams of the wind and the barks of the sniffers. Silent until they'd opened fire on the topside, striking holes all over the skin, into the dogs, into the crew. Alek had been shoved behind a winch – Dylan hadn't been so lucky.

And now he was carrying the boy in his arms, lifeblood spurting out of a bullet wound in his arm.

"Hold on, Dylan." he said.

Dylan giggled. Then he stopped, and his face contorted.

"It's only a flesh wound," he said, through gritted teeth.

"No – I mean, yes. But stay awake, look at me."

The infirmary was half empty – Alek was surprised, then remembered how many men had fallen off the sides of the ship. A dozen at least.

"Doctor!" he called.

A man in a white coat hurried forward, his sleeves stained with blood.

"Put him here, put him here." he gestured at an empty bed.

Alek lay Dylan down as gently as he could, but Dylan tried to sit up.

"I'm fine," he said, swaying.

"No," said the Doctor, lifting up a syringe and filling it with morphine. "You're not. Lie back, soldier. I'll patch you up."

"No no. No."

The needle went into Dylan's left arm and the boy was soon still.

"Can I stay?" asked Alek.

"I'll need your help. Go into that cupboard and get me gauze, two rolls of bandage from the third shelf and the tape." Even as he said this, the Doctor was leaning over Dylan, cutting his shirt up the side. "Now, quickly!"

Alek was still piling up on the gauze when he heard the Doctor swear.

"What-what is it?"

The Doctor pulled a sheet over Dylan and hurried over to Alek. He pulled things from the shelf and turned to Alek.

"You better go. They'll need help securing the topside."

"But-"

"No buts. Go."

And Alek left.

Once everything had died down and returned to normal, he found out Dylan had been secured in the captain's quarters. He never saw him again.

_**I'M A GIRL, YOU NINNY**_

_In which Alek is a ninny, and Deryn is frustrated._

"Alek. Alek!"

"Mmm?"

"I've got something to tell you."

"Can't it wait? I don't mean to be rude but I need to fix this."

"Your pilot's chair? Maybe you should. You'll need to sit down for this."

"Mm-hmm. Just give me a moment then. What's brought this on?"

"I need to…come clean about something. It's actually…you might like it, you might not."

"You're not quitting the Air Service?"

"What? No, no! I'd never do that. They'll have to kick me off this ship. And they might."

"Don't pull that face, just tell me….Hey, look, I've fixed my seat-"

"You're not sitting."

"Oh, for – here. I'm sitting. Tell me."

"Right. Well, I really wanted to tell you this in the hotel back in Istanbul."

"Yes."

"And…ok, I'll just come out with it."

"I'm waiting."

"…"

"Dylan, you're my friend. I'm still going to be your friend even if you…broke my wrench?"

"Nope. Alek, I have two X chromosomes!"

"…"

"…"

"And…what are chromosomes?"

"They're the…I don't know what you Clankers call them but…oh, for God's sake. I'm a girl."

"Ah."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"Alek? Alek, are you ok? Wie geht's?"

"What happened?"

"You fainted."

"Yes…well. That makes a bit of sense, now that I think about it. The girl thing. Can you help me up?"

"Yes."

"Right. What's your real name, then?"

"Deryn."

"It's pretty."

_**All Those Years Ago**_

_In which Kitty Stamford narrates, and Deryn wears pants._

1920, Glasgow

Deryn Sharp? Deryn Sharp? Oh my gosh, the things I could tell you about Deryn Sharp. Once, when we were six – during Christmas Mass, mind, she wanders out halfway through the prayer, comes back in and lobs a snowball at her brother! And don't get me started on when she came to market wearing pants.

Honestly though, Deryn's so unladylike. She dressed as a boy during the Great War and ran off to join the air force. She served on the Leviathan for three years, till the secret…well...I don't want to be crude, but she got herself…she was…expecting. She went off and got herself pregnant, whilst disguised as a soldier. Honestly, have you ever heard anything so _delicious_? I mean, _scandalous_? She lost the baby in an accident on the ship but the damage was already done and she got sent back here, to Glasgow.

Surprisingly, her gallivanting about in breeches or her old uniforms impresses most of the women in town. I think it's disgusting – who cares if she got the Iron Cross or the Wallace Shield? A woman's place is in the home.

I have to admit, what happened yesterday was rather romantic, if it was so rude and public. We were at market together, and I was speaking to her as she'd decided to wear riding clothes so she was almost decent, when this carriage rolled through the square, nearly hitting us. Anyway, there was a lot of shouting, and these Austrian soldiers started marching round the square. I knew they were Austrians because my husband fought against them in France – he was a bear rider, you see. He's ever so strong.

So there's all this shouting and the carriage door had this fancy crest with gears and things in it, all whirls and then it opens and hits me square in the face. I fell in the mud – yes, I know. Kitty Stamford in the mud, imagine! It stained my skirt something awful but Deryn didn't even look at me. She was all moony eyed as a tall man in fancy uniform gets out. The whole square is silent, staring at the two of them and Deryn, I kid you not, swears. Swears like a common sailor! There were children and _ladies_ present!

"Blisters! Took you bloody well long enough!"

And the man laughs at this foul language and says, "Well, if you didn't live in the middle of barking nowhere, it wouldn't have."

And Deryn started laughing and crying, honestly she's mad as a hatter and then the man grabbed her and they started kissing!

Right in the middle of the square, in front of ever so many people. Gawkers! So rude.

And I'd made it out of the puddle by then, no thanks to Deryn, and before I could break them apart to perhaps save some face, some idiot in the watching crowd starts clapping.

Like it's something to be proud of? Honestly.

And you know what the worst part was? The rest of the square joins in and soon the whole place is applauding this lewd display. Finally Deryn and her mystery man broke apart, and they both just waved to the crowd and hopped into the carriage. They waved until they'd driven out of the bloody square, people cheering them the entire way.

This place has really gone to the dogs.

_**Lemur Assisted Epiphany**_

_In which Alek is a ninny, Battleship is played, and Bovril is…Bovril._

"_Mister_ Sharp."

"E6."

"Miss. L10?"

"Hit."

"L9?"

"Hit."

"_Mister_ Sharp."

"Quiet, Bovril. L8?"

"You sunk my battleship. You're really good at this, Dylan."

"Thanks. Um, G4?"

"Miss. Uh…A-"

"_Mister_ Sharp."

"Shh, Bovril. A7?"

"Oh damn. Hit."

"Aha. A8?"

"Miss."

"_Mister_ Sharp."

"Why does he do that?"

"I have no idea, Alek. He just started doing it randomly."

"No, I think Volger taught him."

"No, I'm pretty sure it was completely random and DOESN'T mean anything G1?"

"It's my turn. Why did your voice go so high then?"

"Did it?"

"C4?"

"I have to go."

Dylan departed the cabin as if the hounds of hell were at his heels. Alek looked at Bovril. Bovril looked at Alek.

"_Mister_ Sharp."

Alek frowned. Someone with sharp hearing might have heard all the pieces falling into place…voice…layers of clothing…

"_Mister_ Sharp."

Alek gaped. "Oh, my Lord!"

Bovril chuckled. Finally.

_**Now Or Never**_

_In which they are at war, and Alek gives Deryn what she wants._

Bombs whistled overhead, hitting the ground and exploding with sudden flashes that set Deryn's teeth on edge. She lay against the side of the airship, feeling the once-taught membrane sink under her weight. That was the worst part – the Leviathan was dead. Shot down as they'd crossed over France, fallen on the Western front.

She clutched her pistol (useless now, except as a club) in one hand, kept pressure on her bleeding leg with her other. How could this have happened?

"Dylan!"

Deryn turned and saw Alek running towards her, ducking behind the remnants of the gondola before making the final sprint.

"Are you OK?" he asked, seeing the blood ooze from her leg.

"You're…an idiot." she managed.

Alek pulled his jacket off and folded it into a pad, pressed it against the wound. More blood leaked out into the puddle underneath the midshipman.

"I hate…Germans. And Englishmen. And…"

"Austrians?" asked Alek with a grim smile.

"No, I love Austrians."

Dylan smiled at Alek, his face pale. "Love Austrians. Love you."

It was awkward. They were in the middle of a battlefield, and it was awkward.

"Love you too, Dylan." said Alek, keeping his gaze firmly on his leg. The blood wasn't stopping.

"No, really," said Dylan, and his voice had changed. "Look at me."

Alek looked, and before he could do anything, Dylan had leaned forward and kissed him.

On the lips.

In the middle of a battle.

Awkward.

This was wrong, so wrong. Wrong place, wrong time, and wrong gender.

"My name isn't Dylan." Dylan whispered. "It's Deryn." And he…_she_ leaned back in again.

Alek didn't pull away until Deryn slumped back against the membrane, eyes closed for the last time. He sat back. Closed his eyes against a sudden burning.

All those things he'd said...

They found him the next morning, lying by Deryn's side, holding her cold hand in his.

_**Moronic Monarchs**_

_In which Alek is a ninny, and the whole damn ship knows. Somehow. I blame Volger._

"Morning Alek. Morning, _Dylan_."

"Hello, Newkirk."

Dylan and Alek continued on their way to the mess hall.

"Good morning, Prince Alek."

"Morning, Thompson."

"Hey, _Mister_ Sharp."

"Morning Thompson." Dylan stuck his foot out and tripped the other airman as he passed.

"Why'd you do that?" asked Alek. Dylan shrugged.

They continued on their way to breakfast, until Dr. Barlow stopped them.

"Gentle_men_. Can I see you for a moment?"

Dylan glared at the boffin. "No."

"Why not, _Mister_ Sharp?"

"I swear to God I'm going to kill everyone on this ship."

The pair left Dr Barlow, who grinned and retreated to her rooms.

"Why are you acting so odd this morning?" Alek asked.

Dylan stopped in his tracks.

"You really want to know?"

Alek nodded. Dylan sighed.

"The thing is, Alek-"

"Hey Dylan, my main _man. _Cricket on the spine this arvo?"

"Sure thing, Will. See you there."

Alek waited until Will had passed. "The thing is?"

Dylan pursed his lips and frowned. "Lets go to my cabin. I need to show you something…"

_**Vile Vicious Victorious Volger**_

_In which Dylan cross-dresses and Deryn is recursive, which is based loosely on Twelfth Night._

"I don't see any other way into the embassy." said the Captain, looking over the blueprints. "Every door has a guard and every window is barred and locked at all times."

"They rarely let men in, too," added Barlow. "They turned away at least twenty soldiers while I watched."

"We need to get into this embassy and retrieve those plans. It's vital to the war effort. I'd ask you to go in, Doctor, but they already know who you are."

Barlow sighed. "Midshipman Sharp? Do you have any ideas?" She glanced at Deryn.

"Well…" she began. She really didn't want to go along with Barlow's plan, explained to her that morning over breakfast. "If we got some of the younger, smaller crew members and-"

"Like yourself?"

"I suppose, sir. And we got them to I don't know, dress…as…women? And sneak in?" "It's Shakespearean." said the Commander. "I seem to recall that happening in…never mind. It's Shakespearean and it's brilliant!"

And that was how 'Midshipman Dylan Sharp' found herself in a dress on the steps of the German embassy, on the arm of a disguised Alek.

She kind of wanted to die. A lot.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't want to drag you into this, but you know German, and…"

"It's OK." he was leaning so close to her.

"In, and out. Just in and out." she said.

Alek leant a little closer. "If it's any consolation, you look beautiful in a dress, Deryn."

She swayed on the spot, but since she'd gone corset-free, recovered.

"Volger?"

"Volger."

"That bastard…"

_**The Most Plausible Way Ever (Moronic Monarchs Up To Eleven)**_

_In which I wrote something pretty close to crack and Alek is, surprisingly enough, a ninny._

"Good morning, Doctor Barlow!" said Alek, grinning. "Ain't it a beautiful day?"

"Well…yes. Er, Alek?" said the Doctor.

"Mmmm?"

"Dylan's a girl. Called Deryn."

"Ahaha. You crack me up, Nora."

Alek patted Nora on the back and continued on his way, whistling.

"Hey, Prince Aleksander!"

"Yes, Newkirk?" asked Alek, whirling to face the midshipman. "How are we on this fine, fine morning?"

"Good, I suppose. Hey. I don't know if anyone's told you, but Dylan is a girl."

"Really." Alek crossed his arms. "And I suppose you have proof."

"I do." and from a pocket, Newkirk produced a bra. "She left this in my room last night."

"Newkirk!" said Alek, shocked. "Why are you stealing underthings? It's disgusting. Honestly, why do you even have that?"

He turned and tried to stomp away in disgust, but the morning was so darn beautiful he couldn't help but skip as he entered the mess hall. Strung across the ceiling was a huge banner that read, "WE DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR MAMMARIES, DYLAN/DERYN!"

A second smaller one under that read, "THANKS GUYS. I'M SO GLAD THIS HASN'T COME BETWEEN US."

A third smaller one beneath that said, "HEY, HAS ANYONE TOLD ALEK YET?"

Alek ducked under the fourth banner, which read simply, "NO. OOPS." and made a beeline for the cornflakes. Bowl of arousal repressing flakes and milk in hand, he turned and scanned the room for Dylan – he wouldn't be sitting with Newkirk anymore, no sir, not after that…brassiere…

"Morning, Alek." said Dylan, appearing at his elbow in a long pink dress with ruffles. "How are you feeling?"

"Hungry. Shall we sit?"

"Alek, I'm a girl."

"Yes. Aren't you going to get some toast?"

"I already ate. Half the airmen delivered me breakfast in bed after I got…you know, busted."

The pair sat and Alek ate.

"Are you OK with me being a woman? I mean, you're so goddamn sexist all the time."

"Oh, I'm fine with you, Dylan."

"Deryn."

"Yes yes."

The shift-change whistle blew and Dylan stood, his pink skirts rustling.

"Well, I've got to change and get on a Huxley. See you at lunch."

And he walked away.

Alek finished his cornflakes and walked out, ducking under two new banners as he left.

"IS THAT KID BLIND OR JUST REALLY, REALLY STUPID?"

"HE'S A HAPSBURG. HAVE YOU SEEN THEIR FAMILY TREE?"

**Oh my God, the Hapsburg family. Not as inbred as some other royal families, but not as five-toed as the Romanovs. Seriously. Wikipedia search Charles 2 of Spain and prepare to feel sick.**

**I do realize that he was around 300 years pre-Alek, but honestly. Who lets historical accuracy get in the way of an incest joke?**

**Also, I got to use the word derriere. I'm so proud :D**

**As far as I can remember, men have XY on their chromosomes, women have XX. If I'm wrong, sue me. If I'm right, I paid attention in science…which I didn't.**

**Nail polish - the clear kind, anyway, has been around for centuries, but it was only in the 1920s that coloured polishes were popularized. I figured in the Leviathan universe, coloured polish could have been invented a little earlier. Also, Alek missing out on Deryn wandering around with a bright red manicure just makes me laugh.**

**Battleship was popularized in the 1890s if memory serves, so it's ok for them to play it.**

**Arousal-repressing flakes? Yes, that is why cornflakes were invented. Look it up! On second thoughts, don't. See, I do research when it interests me!**

**My favourite out of these is All Those Years Ago. I had ever so much fun writing it. I was even doing little flippy hand gestures. I'd love to know what you thought of it and the others…in a review!**

**Thanks for reading.**

**-Nicola.**

**BONUS LAUGHS! Be original and add 'in bed' to the end of each drabble description. :P**


	4. Everybody Must Meet Them

**I agonized over these, I really did. They've all been rewritten completely at least twice. I thought about splitting this into two chapters because it was taking so long…but one long, late chapter is better than two short ones, right?**

**And then my computer broke. Don't worry, I've fixed it!**

**Sorry if I didn't fill your prompt. They were all great ideas but these ones really took my fancy, and my fancy isn't easy to take.**

**WARNINGS: Bad poetry, bad puns and mentions of anarchist lesbians.**

**DISCLAIMER: Not Scott.**

**Everybody Must Challenge Them**

**(alternatively titled)**

**Ten Ways To Torture Me**

**Poems In The Key of Darwin – A Triad.**

**For Penelope Wendy Bing.**

_In which things don't rhyme, and I apologize for my attempts at poetry._

**Bad Limerick One, Which Is Tacky:**

There once was a lass called Sharp

Who got sick of this girly lark.

So she manned up and joined the force.

But there was a plot twist ha-ha, of course!

And now she's knee-deep in clart.

**Bad Limerick Two, Which Doesn't Rhyme:**

There was a guy, name of Alek (_Allek_?)

He was sexist and racist as a Dalek – (_Dallek_?)

He met a guy called Dylan

Who's really a girl, God willin'!

Alek is going to look such a pillock. (_pillak_?)

**Odd Poem Three, Which Is Descriptive:**

There's a book called Behemoth, right?

It's brilliant and exciting, it'll keep you up all night.

Crossdressing girls and princely boys

Anarchist lesbians, all kinds of joys.

The Ottomans and Russia look to be staying together

Why won't Alek and Deryn have a roll in the heather?

**NINJAS!**

**For JayBird 45**

_In which the true __origin of Ninjas is discussed._

"Ninjas?"

"NINJAS!" "…What are ninjas, Alek?" "I have it right here in this encyclopedia."

"…"

"…Hmmm."

"Well?"

"Odd."

"WHAT DOES IT SAY?"

"It says they're stage hands – uh oh."

"What now?"

"We took our eyes off them."

"So?" "Ninjas are like Weeping Angels. Never take your eyes off them, even for a-Dylan!"

"I'm behind this chair."

"What – you're hiding?"

"ALEK! BEHIND YOU!"

**His Royal Tightpants**

**For Scytherian Poetry**

_In which anachronism happens. Because it had to. Dammit, Jack._

Deryn wasn't sure what to expect upon opening the door. She'd heard the strange muffled sobs, and knocked softly. There'd been no reply.

So she'd opened the door slowly, just in case Alek was engaged in some kind of activity that required him to be naked, or was engaged in coitus, naked, or getting engaged while naked. So really, her only expectation was that Alek was naked, and can you blame our favourite crossdressing Scot for that? Alek was _weird_.

Not as weird as Deryn apparently.

Alek wasn't naked, far from it. He was layered quite a bit, in a stripy long sleeved shirt (anachronistic) with leather, fingerless gloves (anachronistic, as it looked like he'd nicked them off the set of Doctor Who when the Master was hanging around), and a strange shirt that looked sort of like a 'T' with a pentagram and the word, 'SLIPKNOT,' emblazoned on it in some godawful font. So, not anachronistic? Over this delightful ensemble Alek had thrown on a thick black jacket with rips and badges. And there was a ridiculously long, stripy scarf, and some more badges, and a lot of zips, but Deryn was distracted by Alek's pants.

On his top half, Alek was all wrapped up. Snug as a bug in a rug as my mother might say, if she hadn't abandoned me at Woolworth's last Tuesday because I forgot to pick up the milk.

So, snug as a bug in a rug. But on the bottom half…well…

Alek was wearing very, very tight pants. Get your tightest pants. Put them on. Get in the washing machine. Put the machine on hot. Get out, stumble around. Clamber into the dryer. Put it on super hot. Get out. Ring triple-0. When you get home from hospital you'll know. That's how tight Alek's pants were. And he wasn't wearing anything else on his bottom half, except for a stupid studded belt and an odd black pair of shoes.

Deryn blinked, and put on her boy voice. Yes, that's where we were when the scene began. She tapped on the still open door.

"Alek." she said. "Are you ok?"

Alek looked at her, and oh holy God there was black _stuff _around his eyes.

"Have you been in a fight?"

And what was wrong with his hair? It was all pushed to one side, and drooped over the left side of his face like a depressed horses tail. Deryn dropped to her knees beside him and rested a hand on Alek's shoulder. Or, rested a hand on the seven layers of badges, zips and material that covered Alek's shoulder. There was no tingle up her arm, for once. What a relief.

"Alek, what's wrong?" Deryn shook him lightly. "Alek – oh." he had little black plugs in his ears.

"How could this happen to meeeeeeee?" Alek sang softly.

Deryn raised a badass eyebrow. She stood. "I'm going to go get Doctor Barlow." She turned. She took a step towards the door. "Unless you tell me why you're so upset."

Alek pulled one of the plugs out. A tinny voice filled the room. "WHEN I WAS. A YOUNG BOY. MY FATHER-"

"I'm-"

"Yes?" Deryn asked.

"I'm-"

"Hmm?"

"VOLGER DOESN'T LIKE MY HAIRCUT!"

**The Flightanic**

**For Music Antoinette**

_In which there are horrible puns, for which I will not apologize._

_The Atlantic Ocean, April 12th, 1912._

"HOW on EARTH did we end up HERE?" shouted Alek.

Deryn continued to kick, concentrating all her energy on keeping her head above the freezing water. Finally, she gathered enough breath to speak.

"What, in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean?"

Alek nodded, kneeling carefully on the fabricated door that had come bobbing by them. Deryn sucked in another breath, the briny water compressing her chest worse than any corset. Finally,

"Simple! The Leviathan hit an iceberg!"

Alek had been snoozing when said Incident had occurred (hereby termed the Iceberg Incident) and looked slightly more puzzled than usual. Silly Clankers.

"An Iceberg…hit our _airship_?"

"Very tall, very pointy iceberg. Happens more often than you'd think."

Silence fell between our favourite duo, and instead they listened to the cry of the gulls, the lap of the waves and the distant song of a whale Deryn later identified as _Celinius_ _Dionus_.

"Alek." said Deryn.

"Yes, Dylan?"

"It's been half an hour. It's your turn to get in the water."

"But-"

"I can't feel my legs," said Deryn. Then, remembering she was a boy, she frowned and added, "Or my other parts."

"Oh, fikkin." Alek slid into the water, shuddering as tendrils of cold made their way up his body.

_Celinius_ _Dionus_ was getting closer. Deryn _really_ wished it wasn't. Those whales could get loud.

"Where's the rest of the crew then?" asked Alek, looking sort of dashing and sort of like a bedraggled Tim Minchin.

True, the rest of the crew wasn't there. They were still on the Leviathan, trying to plug the leak. After the iceberg the Leviathan had shot across the sky like an untied balloon, somehow only dislodging Alek and Deryn. Physics, you know? No one gets it.

Deryn smiled, trying to look reassuring. "They'll come get us."

"It's been half an hour."

"No it hasn't." Deryn crossed her legs and tried not to shiver. Of _course_ the Leviathan would come back.

"It's been half an hour."

"Fuck off, no it hasn't."

**The Beetles – A Glee Crossover**

**For my-silver-lining**

_In which…Yeah, I don't know either. Also, it's Friday. Fun._

"So…beetles." said Dylan, poking at one with a stick. "What do these do, Doctor?"

Barlow smiled. "They're flash weapons. We use them to disorientate the enemy – similar to your smoke bombs, Alek."

"They're not my smoke bombs."

"The Count's then."

Alek peered into the terrarium where the dozen or so black, glossy bugs scuttled. "How do they work? Do they stick on peoples backs or-"

"Oh. Like this." Barlow (gloveless) reached into the box and picked out a beetle. She tossed it onto the cabin floor, where it landed on its back, but soon righted itself.

"Where am I?" asked the beetle. That's right, the beetle. "Mr. Schue, where are we?"

"Unit Rachel," said Doctor Barlow in a clear, slow voice. "Operation Disorient."

The beetle – Rachel? – stopped scurrying and twitched an antenna. "Operation Disorient." it repeated. Then,

"Seven AM, waking up gotta be fresh, gotta get my bowl gotta-"

"NO!" screamed Dylan and Alek, and they fled.

I'm not a bug fan of Glee.

**On Wednesdays, They Wear Pink**

**For Holly Marie Fowl**

_In which an AU is just that, an AU. And ANARCHIST LESBIANS._

Aleksander Ferdinand was starting at a new school, and with a name like Aleksander Ferdinand, you know it wasn't going to be easy. His top five problems were:

**1.** His name was Aleksander Ferdinand. He really wanted to be called Alek, but it hadn't caught on at his last five schools (Forks High, Avalon Heights, Rydell High, Degrassi High or Hillridge High) and so it probably wouldn't catch on here. Or there. Wherever he was going this time.

**2.** He was a redhead. This would have been a bigger problem in Australia. Thankfully he was in Chicago.

**3.** He had an Austrian accent, which everyone assumed was a German accent. And in a tolerant and understanding country like the good ole US of A, that meant everyone thought he was a Nazi. Or a Communist. Which is stupid. Only Russians are Communist.

**4.** He had to wear glasses, which made him look both intelligent (he was) and like an insomniac owl.

**5.** It was actually Aleksander Muriel Ferdinand. Yeah. His parents were kind of dicks.

Aleksander Ferdinand liked to make lists.

Apart from being dicks, his parents were Nazi Communist Spies in the American government, also known as Austrian Ambassadors. Aleksander Ferdinand had been to fifteen schools since he'd arrived in America when he was ten. Now aged seventeen, and still with an Austrian accent for some reason, he knew starting at a new school was hard. He knew this new school wouldn't be any different.

He was wrong.

Aleksander Ferdinand was often wrong, despite his glasses, owlishness and intelligence. He thought he'd be teased for his name, called a Nazi, called a Communist, called a Cazi Nommunist (it's happened), called a ranga (but he was in Chicago, so no), but he was wrong.

In homeroom a lovely fellow befriended him by the unfortunate name of Kirk Newsome. Kirk Newsome was a Cool Loser, good looking and funny enough to be worth being friends with, but brave enough to be quirky in a stereotypical way. Kirk Newsome introduced Aleksander Ferdinand to everyone- the sportos, the motorheads, geeks, sluts, bloods, wastoids, dweebies, dickheads, the band, the prydonians, the orchestra, the drama club and the soccer team. They all thought Alek (for they had begun to call him that) was a righteous dude.

The morning passed in a blur of smiles, nods, high-fives and "So, how's socialism going for you guys?" Soon it was lunch, the most important lesson of the day.

That's a bad, tired joke. I'm sorry. So, so sorry.

The Cool Losers sat round the table. Aleksander-no, Alek, Kirk, Lillit the lesbian anarchist, a guy who insisted on being called Bovril (real name Lawrence), a car obsessed, short kid called Harry Saxon ("Call me Sexon," he'd said, wiggling his eyebrows) and a tall thin girl called Nora who appeared to be a genius. Kind of like me.

"And over there, that's Jaspert Sharp. He's the quarterback," said Kirk.

"Is that girl next to him his girlfriend?" asked Alek.

"No." said Lilit. "That's Deryn Sharp, his little sister. She's head cheerleader, valedictorian and does car commercials-"

"In Japan," Nora finished in a bored voice. "God, Lil. It's not that amazing."

Deryn Sharp was hot, hawt, heiss in Celsius or Fahrenheit. She had long blonde hair, an ample chest and great legs, as shown by her skirt, which doubled as a belt.

"You're drooling." said Kirk. "Don't even think about it. She's out of your league."

Alek looked for a few more minutes, watching her...Then he nodded.

"Yeah, you're probably right."

And so he went out with Nora instead.

**Jurassic Entente**

**For LittleSpark**

_In which I exhibit the ferocity of my nerdiness, about something rather…unexpected._

Deryn and Alek were at the North American Zoo-International. It was the best zoo in the world (according to Americans) and the best zoo in America (according to the rest of the world).

What the North American Zoo-International did was export North American fabs internationally, everywhere from Australia to Bulgaria to Canada to Denmark to England to Finland to Greece to Holland to Iceland to Japan to Kazakhstan to Luxembourg to Morocco to Nicaragua to Oman to Portugal to Qatar, but not to Russia or anything after it, because you couldn't trust those Commie bastards.

What the North American Zoo-International exported was Dinosaurs. Triceratops, Brontosaurus, Stegosaurus, Pterodactyls, Tyrannosauruses, you name it.

And right now, Deryn and Alek were running away from a T-Rex, which was clutching a copy of the American Constitution and protesting.

"RRAAARL! IT'S IN MY RIGHTS! I CAN BEAR ARMS!"

"YOU CAN'T BEAR ARMS WITH THOSE LITTLE ARMS!" shouted Deryn.

The T-Rex fab glanced down at his small, clawed limbs.

"I'LL HAVE TO TAKE YOUR ARMS THEN!

"This is WORSE THAN FRANCE!" yelled Alek.

The pair ran on, and on. Always running. They did a ridiculous amount of running.

**Straight As A Board**

**For ReadrOfBooks**

_In which Dylan convinces people he is straight. Sort of._

"One question."

"Yes, Alek?"

"Did you like kissing Lilit?"

"Was alright."

"Alright?"

"She was a pretty good kisser. Fantastic kisser. I don't know, I don't really go in for kissing girls."

"…"

"…"

"What do you-"

"I mean um, girls like her. Anarchists. Ones that get ideas about being out of the kitchen and not…um…having children all the time."

"Exactly! A woman's place in the home, not out on the front lines. Extraordinary as Lilit was, it would not have ended well, if she'd been in a proper position of power."

"She was in a-"

"It may have looked like it, but I saw Zaven was the real brains behind the operation."

"What about Nene?"

"She had some ideas, I'll grant you, but they were outdated. Stupid. I mean…using pepper?"

"THAT WAS MY IDEA! AND IT WORKED! WHAT ARE YOU – Oh yeah, a Hapsburg…"

"Well, then it was brilliant. Dylan…why do you look so mad?"

"BECAUSE I AM BLOODY MAD!"

"Why are you mad – stop shouting! It's too loud."

"Alek, stop insulting girls. They're just as capable as women."

"But you were just-"

"Shut up."

"You just-"

"Shut up."

"You just-"

"GARGH! I AM A GIRL, ALEK! FEEL MY BREASTS!"

**Flying To Do – A Twilight Crossover**

**For** **limegreenwordmachine**

_In which there is a balloon, a sparkling Mormon, an Austrian moron and a pretty bitching honeymoon._

Once Upon A Time, there was a young couple, a boy and a girl. The boy was called Alek and the girl was called Deryn. Alek and Deryn were funny, and smart and brave. They'd fought wars together, inspired revolution. And in the end, they'd fallen in love. It had been an epic romance, the kind of thing that would make Shakespeare throw down his quill. Don't even get me started on the wedding.

And because Alek and Deryn had made so many friends through their wartime adventures, their friends had all put in for the most awesome honeymoon ever, in the best country in the world. Unfortunately, Australia was closed due to flooding, and so was England, and so was Gallifrey…so they went around America instead.

They were staying in a quaint little town called Forks, where it rained an awful lot. It was like Glasgow, so Deryn thought it wonderful. The couple was flying above the town in their hot air balloon when they spotted it. Or rather, them. A couple sitting high up in a tree. Up a tree and stuck, from the way they were sitting.

"Take the balloon up ten feet!" called Alek, hanging over the edge of the basket.

"Yes dear," said Deryn, throwing a sandbag over the side. Soon they had drawn level with the couple – a plain looking girl with long brown hair, and a red headed boy who looked strung out on something. The pair didn't even look at them as the large, multicoloured balloon hovered less than a foot away from them. They didn't even blink as the balloon ascended and was replaced by a bright purple basket, with you know, fire in it. Deryn was about to offer assistance when the girl spoke.

"Oh…Edward." the girl said.

"Oh…Bella." the boy said.

"Oh, Edward."

"Oh, Bella."

"Oh, Edward."

"Oh, Bella."

"Oh Edward."

"Oh Bella."

"Edward."

"Bella."

They leaned in as if to kiss, but then the boy – Edward? – threw himself backwards, nearly falling out of the tree.

"Dammit Bella, it's TOO DANGEROUS!"

"But I love you Edward!"

Alek looked at Deryn. Deryn looked at Alek. Deryn tossed out a few more sandbags and let the wind carry them far, far away from that weird couple. Who had time to sit and stare at each other when there was flying to do?

**The Man Cold**

**For ThornyRose**

_In which Alek is sick, in a way that isn't reminiscent of Sheldon Cooper. At all._

The sound of the world ending is the monstrous anger of guns. It is torrential rain, thunder and lighting. It is the hoof beats of the Four Horsemen. It is the sound of drums. It is, quite possibly the Ride of Valkyries. I'd rather listen to the Beatles as the seas turn to blood and boil, preferably Abbey Road as the stars fall down, but you know. Some nice, anti-Semitic Wagner will do, I guess.

But to Deryn Sharp, the sound of the world ending is her husband sneezing. Not because he's actually dying, or because she really, really loves him (which she does, but shut up) but because…well…

"Deryn," said a pathetic voice. "Deryn, I'm – sniff – I'm sick. Deryn?"

"Good morning to you, Alek." said Deryn, and she shoved a pillow over her head.

Alek brushed his hand along her side. "Really sick. Can I have a cup of tea?"

"Make it yourself."

"Schatzi…"

"Oh, fine." Deryn sat up, rearranged her nightgown and stood up, wincing at the chill floor. She padded down two flights of stairs, made two cups of tea (black with two for her, white with none for Alek) and carried them carefully back up to the top room. She had just set Alek's cup down on his bedside table when a pathetic voice, choked with…something…came up from the blankets.

"Deryn?"

"Yes. Alek."

"Can I have some toast? Just one piece."

"Anything else?"

"Buttered."

"Hmmm."

"Please."

Deryn glared at the only part of Alek visible – a tuft of auburn hair.

"Fine." She turned on her heel and set off down the stairs again.

A piece of toast, another cup of tea, an extra blanket and a bottle of cough medicine later, Deryn poked and prodded at Alek until he staggered downstairs and made himself a nest on the couch. Deryn built him a roaring fire. She put on his favourite record. She made more tea. She made lunch, despite the fact he was a much better cook than her.

She repressed the urge to punch him.

Alek sniffled. Deryn picked up a book and sat beside him, somehow contriving to do it violently.

"…Deryn." Alek coughed weakly.

"Alek."

"I think I need to go back to bed."

"OH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, ALEK! YOU HAVE THE SNIFFLES!"

Another bottle of cough medicine, an extra blanket, another cup of tea and a half eaten piece of toast ("'S too cold.") later, Deryn had helped Alek back upstairs. He threw himself onto their bed, taking up all of the mattress and blankets.

"Call me if you need anything." grumbled Deryn, marching downstairs. She'd just hit the bottom step when-

"Deryn?"

"GARGH! WHAT?"

Cups of tea, cutting up his lunch and dinner for him, reading to him, extra blankets, taking said extra blankets away, making toast that was too cold or burnt – it's TOAST, Alek, it's meant to be crunchy!

All day.

Deryn Ferdinand-Sharp fell into bed beside her husband, who was curled up amongst the debris of his terrible illness – toast crumbs and tea leaves.

"I love you," he said, only a trace of whininess left in his voice.

"Don't even start." she said. "In a few months you're going to do all that for me, and you're not going to complain. Not once."

"Why?" asked Alek, his voice miraculously clear and non-pathetic. "What's happening in a few months?"

Deryn switched off the light, turned on her side and rested her hand on her stomach. "Oh, nothing," she said, smiling in the dark. "Go to sleep. You'll feel better in the morning."

**Not sure if Man Colds exist in America but I know the phenomenon does. You know when your dad or brother or any other male acquaintance get sick and it's just the WORST cold EVER? They have a fever of a hundred and ninety degrees, chills, and a hideous cough…Yeah, and all they really have is a sniffle? That's a Man Cold. Spread it. The word, that is.**

**Schatzi = sweetheart, dear, so on and so forth.**

**I'm probably wrong in recalling this but y'all probably know that in WWII it was the Axis, made up of Germany, Italy and Japan versus the Allies, who were Britain, France, Australia, New Zealand, Russia (sort of) and the USA. Eventually.**

**In WWI it was the Triple Entente of Tsarist/Provisional Russia (until 1917), France, Britain and the Commonwealth against the Triple Alliance of Germany, Austria-Hungary and Italy.**

**If it all sounds like a weird spy show to you, it gets weirder. Italy had a secret treaty with the Russians, meaning they wouldn't attack each other. This nullified Russia and Germany's involvement with each other, even though the Queen of Russia was of course, German.**

**ANYWAY, that's why Jurassic Entente was called er…Jurassic Entente. Even though the US wasn't actually a member, they did fight for them. Obviously. So I kind of didn't need to type that, but now you know something new. That's important.**

**I have to apologize again for my limericks. I can write Sestinas but not limericks. Is that irony or just sad?**

**Also, SignedAnon? I have written two – count them, **_**TWO**_** – Doctor Who/Leviathan crossovers. I also write Doctor Who fanfiction, on a different account, as it's **_**very**_** different to this, more kid-friendly stuff. You're just being **_**greedy**_**. However, because I'm nice, slightly mad and very excited for the new season, there is a Doctor Who reference in EACH DRABBLE. Who ever catches all of them and tells me in a review gets a very special prize. And I mean, VERY special :D**

**So it's been a very fun ride and I've really enjoyed writing all these drabbles. I really hope you liked them too. Why don't you tell me all about it…in a review!**

**Thanks for reading and all your wonderful support. See you next time.**

**-Nicola.**


	5. Everybody Must Just Dance

**I really must un-Beatles my library. I had to skip so many Lennon/McCartney tracks it was almost embarrassing…anyway.**

**WARNING: Writing to instrumental music is hard. "This Is Gallifrey, Our Childhood, Our Home," is an awesome song, but it has no words, and I can't find the sheet music anywhere. Hence my **_**hilarious **_**(note: sarcasm) quote.**

**DISCLAIMER: Not Scott Westerfeld or any of these artists.**

**Everybody Must (Just) Dance**

**(alternatively titled)**

**Ten Songs Challenge: Non-Beatles Style.**

**Out There – Quasimodo, The Hunchback of Notre Dame**

"_And out there, living in the sun, give me one day out there…"_

"Deryn Elizabeth Sharp! How dare you treat Kitty like that! Apologize and come inside at ONCE."

Eight year old Deryn turned to the bawling girl, still in a heap in a muddy puddle. She couldn't comprehend it. How could someone hate mud?

"Sorry Kitty." she said, turned on her heel and ran to her mother. She was ushered inside and into the kitchen.

"Deryn." said her mother, Mary. "What have I told you about pushing…and kicking…and hitting, punching and wearing your brothers clothes?"

Deryn fiddled with her pants. They had pockets and buttons and _everything. _Dead useful things, pockets.

"Mama, it's just…sewing is so boring. Knitting is boring. Jasper gets to go out and fly with D-"

"Play with your dollies."

"Dollies are the worst!"

Mary shook her head. "I don't know what I'm going to do with you. It's the flying with your father. No more of that."

"Mama!"

"Go to your room, Deryn. Put your dress on and don't come down until I call you. Pants, on a girl. It's disgraceful."

Deryn sighed and sloped upstairs, tracking mud all over the carpet. She slammed her door shut and lay on her bed, sniffing. It was so…boring being a girl. Stupid, stupid skirts and dull, dull dolls. She just…

She looked out the window and saw the sun break through the grey clouds. Typical. The one sunny day in Glasgow and she was in prison.

Maybe, one day. Perhaps she could just fly above the clouds and see the sun all the time.

**Daydream Believer - The Monkees**

"_Cheer up sleepy Jean, oh what can it mean to a daydream believer and homecoming queen?"_

"I'm still me, you know."

Alek shook his head. "Dy-Deryn, no. I trusted you and you know you could have told me, but here we are."

"Alek, I'm so sorry you had to find out like this." Deryn sighed, rubbed her nose. "I was going to tell you in Constantinople, but Lilit was right outside and…I can't apologize enough. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Well, you did." And now he sounded like the girl. "Why did you do it?"

It was Deryns turn to shake her head.

"It's like you're trapped, isn't it? Stuck inside, no one to talk to."

"In your own head all the time?"

"Yes." "…Now I think of it, you can probably understand best out of anyone. Apart from Barlow, of course, but…being a girl, anywhere in the world, you're just trapped. Stuck. There is no way out. Just learning to sit properly, and eat properly and-"

**So Beautiful**** – Pete Murray**

"_God, my fingers burn when I think of touching your hair."_

The worst part about having a girlfriend who was pretending to be a boy…Alek frowned, watching Deryn smoking with Newkirk.

He was oblivious, of course, but…

Deryn caught Alek's eye and smiled at him. He tried to grin back, then turned and headed for the exit. He couldn't…

He should have hated her for being so unladylike but…he clenched his fists and made his way to his quarters. It was ridiculous. She and Newkirk were just friends. Just friends.

Jealously. It was as illogical as war.

**Wouldn't It Be Nice – The Beach Boys**

"_Wouldn't it be nice to live together, in the kind of world where we belong?"_

"You shouldn't have invited her, your highness." Volger whispered. "I know you're friends, but this is ridiculous. She challenged the King of Lichtenstein to a spitting contest."

"Well," said Alek. "He agreed. And so what if he lost? It's not like they're going to invade us."

Volger nodded and they watched as Deryn Sharp entertained a group of Princes with one of her stories – from her wild gestures, probably the Elephantine-Pepper one. It got bigger every time she told it.

"You miss her, sir, but you are the Emperor now. Perhaps-"

Alek shook his head. "No. I will not stop seeing her. Even if Tatiana complains."

"When Tatiana complains, sir, the Tsar gets very-"

"She is my fiancé…" Alek took a moment as the magnitude of his words hit him. "…For better or worse. I deal with Anastasia coming into the palace and complaining, she deals with Deryn inviting her up in Huxleys."

"Alek-"

"We're _just_ _friends_, Volger." Alek watched Deryn take the hand of the Duke of Bavaria and lead him onto the dance floor. "That's all we'll ever be."

"Yes, sir."

**This Is Gallifrey, Our Childhood, Our Home – Murray Gold and the BBC National Orchestra of Wales**

"…_damn, that's an awesome oboe. At least, I think it's an oboe."_

"On your left is the door to the captains quarters. Unfortunately, we can't go in there today as it's being restored. The wood used on these old airships is difficult to replace. If you'll follow me to the – yes, young lady, do you have a question?"

"Yeah, I do. Where is Deryn Sharp's cabin? Only I really wanted to see it, as she's a hero of mine."

"We're actually heading to that now, if you'll come along. Spit-spot!"

The guide didn't notice Julia and Sam hiding in the shadows as she lead the tour group off to the mess hall.

"Can you believe it, Sam? Grandmamma will flip when she finds out we made it in here!"

Sam peered out the window. "She said we couldn't do it. Sucks to be her."

"We should find something to bring back, prove we made it in here."

"Hey, Jules. That's stealing."

"It's reclamation."

"I see your point. Remember she said she used to hide stuff in the air vent – why don't we check there?"

"Right. Lift me up, kay?"

* * *

"Grandmamma!"

"Julia, Samuel. How did your visit to the airship go?"

"It was fantastic – we went into your old cabin."

"I'm sure you did."

"We did, look! Julia found this in the air vent." Samuel brandished a dusty sheaf of paper. "It's in Latin, so we can't read it. What's it for?"

Deryn took the paper, an embarrassed look on her face. "So that's where I put it…"

**Birdhouse In Your Soul – They Might Be Giants**

"_Not to put too fine a point on it, say I'm the only bee in your bonnet."_

"I thought I meant something to you."

"Well-"

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"Alek, I'm sorry. You or him. You have to know, it was so hard to pick between-"

"No it wasn't. You barely took a second! How do you think that makes me feel?"

"I have to think about myself too, Alek. It's just-"

"I thought we were friends."

"Oh for Gods sake, Alek! It was just cricket! Sue me if I want to win once in a while."

"I can play cricket."

"No you can't. You always drop the ball, and when you drop a ball on the Leviathan, you don't bloody well get it back again."

**Can You Feel The Love Tonight? – Elton John**

"_It's enough for this restless warrior just to be with you."_

Schonnbrunn. That was his favourite – funny. He'd be one of the only people in the world to have had a favourite castle. Rich, polished floors, gold leaf brushed onto the ornate plaster sculptures, the huge portraits that covered the walls and ceilings. His favourite room was the Room of the Blue Drawings, the walls papered with pictures drawn by his ancestors when they were young. The rooms where Mozart had played and where Marie Antoinette had danced.

He'd loved reading in the conservatory, running in the maze with his mother – And where was Prince Aleksander, last of the Hapsburgs, now?

A grimy smoky hospital in London, with his wife screaming at him from the next room.

"I – HATE – YOU!"

He'd given up the throne for _this_?

"Keep breathing, Mrs. Ferdinand. Keep-"

"I'll BREATHE when I BLOODY WELL want to!" Alek paced up and down the corridor, chain smoking, hands shaking. When the torrent of abuse cut off, his heart skipped a beat.

The door opened inwards, and there was a baby's cry. He saw Deryn, sweaty and exhausted, a smile on her face. In her arms was-

"Congratulations, Mr. Ferdinand." said the nurse. "You have a son."

Oh yes. That was why.

**Mother Nature's Son – The Beatles**

"_Find me in my field of grass, mother nature's country boy."_

There was a warm gust of wind, bringing with it the smell of lavender. Deryn lay back in the hayfield and breathed in what she privately thought of as 'Eau De France.' Lavender, hay, baking bread. All that was missing was one of those accordion deals. Squinting against the blue of the sky, she watched an orange butterfly flap off to the north.

She closed her eyes again, bright lights dancing in her vision.

Sometimes it was nice to be grounded.

**Ruby Tuesday – The Rolling Stones**

"_Don't question why she needs to be so free, she'll tell you it's the only way to be."_

She's gone, she's gone. Deryn's gone and she'll never come back and she said this would happen but you didn't listen did you? Stupid, stupid, why didn't you listen? You were busy, but you had time, you should have listened and-

"Your highness, we have to go. The-"

Can't he see you just need a day, two days? Just two days and you can send the cavalry in all directions and you'll go to Scotland with them, on horses if you ride all night and-

"He's waiting, and he's not a patient man. He doesn't like to be away from-"

"I need a moment." Your voice doesn't come out in a scream. Surprising, because that's all you want to do.

Volger sighs. "I have given you all morning."

"She's GONE, Volger."

"Just like she said she would. I warned you-"

"GET OUT!"

"Your highness, the Tsar is waiting and we cannot afford to anger Russia. You saw what they did to those revolutionaries."

"I need two days. I need her back."

"Your country needs you, to rule them and guide them and protect them."

"But-"

"Stop behaving like a child. You are an emperor, Alek. Act like it."

He's holding your suit out to you, a look of concern on his face but-

"I swore to your father. I promised him I would help you protect the empire, then I promised to protect your happiness."

You take the suit. All you need is two days…

"Duty first, Alek. Then-"

"Then happiness."

**Fire With Fire – The Scissor Sisters**

"_What will we be when we come undone?"_

He injured me.

He broke my country for that _girl_.

He ruined everything for her, a common, _Scottish_ girl.

He ruined my Germany. My beautiful Germany, my mother country.

And he sits in a palace and lords over Austria.

He'll pay. He'll pay for everything.

Everyone will.

And my Germany – I'll heal her. All will fear Germany.

And all will fear me.

The world will remember the name Hitler.

**Not too sure about that last one, but it was interesting to write. I'm going to expand on the alternate post-WW1 world over some more drabbles. Just a bit :)**

**Lichtenstein? Tiny tiny tiny country underneath Germany. I was in the capital, Vaduz, for an hour and that was enough. Seriously. It's cute, and has the world's biggest output of dentures, but…I like my principalities big and ruled by Tsars.**

**Tatiana? Daughter of Nicholas II, the last Tsar of Russia. I'm studying the Russian and French Revolutions for school, so you'll be seeing a lot of references to the Romanovs and Bolsheviks. Whether this is a good thing or not is up to you.**

**I'm not sure if Bavaria (or Bayern) would have had a Duke but I don't care.**

**Schonnbrunn? Famous Austrian castle, which I visited last year. I don't know if Alek would have visited, but Mozart did play there and there's gold all over the place. It's the one Andre Rieu seems to have a fetish for. And I think I spelt the name wrong. For once, I don't care.**

**See you next time – I'm starting school next week, so there might be even more of a wait. Though procrastination does put me in a creative mood…**

**Thanks for reading!**

**-Nicola.**


	6. Everybody Must Improve Their Spelling

**I never actually planned on doing one word prompts for this series, but I was reading the dictionary at midnight anyway (does anyone else have nightmares about spelling?) and figured, why the heck not?**

**I used the dictionary from school, the Macquarie Pocket Dictionary that wouldn't fit in anyone's pocket unless they regularly carried bricks around with them.**

**All of these were written much later than they should have been, on school nights. Hence the excessive wordiness whenever Barlow makes an appearance.**

**This time, on the other hand…Jeez, I am not creative after midnight. I'm like one of those Gremlins.**

**WARNING: So much Deryn's secret getting revealed in these. Apologies. Next time there won't be any.**

**DISCLAIMER: Not Scott.**

**Everybody Must Improve Their Spelling**

**(Alternatively titled)**

**Ten Ways To Define Drabbles**

**Beyond Blue**

_Distinguish (2) To recognize as distinct or different._

It was his eyes, really. Or her eyes. But that was what hit me when I first met Dylan. Apart from the…holding me at knifepoint and threatening to kill me part. They were, and are, vivid bright blue in any light. Always moving, searching. His eyes just seemed too big for his face, making him look younger. Of course, that just made him more striking, especially in action.

It was how I knew Dylan _was_ Deryn, when I tracked her down after the war. Somewhere near Glasgow, Scotland. Last name Sharp. Cousin by the name of Jasper. No, it wasn't easy, but it was worth it.

I remember it so well. She opened the door the complete opposite of what she'd been on the Leviathan – long, neat hair, clean dress, not hanging from ropes four hundred metres above open ocean.

But her eyes…I just knew. No one else has eyes like that.

I swear there's just a little bit of the sky in them.

**Manly Man**

_Inlay (5) Dentistry – a filling of metal etc, which is fitted and fastened into a tooth as a solid mass._

"Ow, OW! Don't stick your fingers in there!"

"Stop whining. Take it like a man. A _king_." said Deryn.

"Whuff if nurfts!"

Deryn removed her gloved fingers from Alek's mouth. He glared at her, rubbing his cheek.

"You're missing part of your back tooth. They'll have to stick something in there until we get to Tokyo and a proper dentist."

"What kind of something?"

"A cap, made of something hard."

"Like what?"

"Blimey, you've never been to a dentist? Well, if you're the Emperor of Austria, probably gold or diamond. Up here…whalebone?"

"For that I'd be willing to accept the throne," said Alek grimly.

"It's not that bad." Deryn leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "I told you to chew carefully."

**Pretentious**__**Preamble**

_Metamorphic – Relating to or marked by change of form._

"Can you hear it?" Barlow asked. "It's the sound of evolution. Twisting, whirling, changing, all around us."

Deryn stared at her, unable to comprehend how pretentious that sentence had been.

"Evolution," the boffin continued. "Of plants, animals, humans. Society itself. Society is an organism, one of the most complex ones in existence. Don't you agree, Dylan?"

Deryn was still reeling from the sudden outburst of verbosity, and simply nodded.

"An ecosystem, like the Leviathan, or the Behemoth. But also like my grandfathers beehives or an anthill. Below us is France. Their last leap forward came when they overthrew Louis the Sixteenth and his wasteful government. And Russia is about to go the same way. The Tsar is an ignoramus, and men like Vladimir Ulyanov and Lev Bronstein are ready to overthrow him. What about England and the Empire, Dylan? Scotland, Ireland, the Australias?"

Who the heck was-"What about England?"

"Didn't you see them? There were riots, demonstrations in the streets before the war. Women want equality and rights on par with men. The right to work and fight and vote and-"

"Wear pants?"

"I suppose that could be another reason. But do you think they deserve it?"

"I suppose. I don't really think about it." said Deryn said.

A few minutes passed. Deryn couldn't help but feel she'd missed out on the chance to reveal her secret.

**Little Late, Lady**

_Pleonasm (1) The use of more words than are necessary to express an idea, redundancy._

"Alek, I have a confession - I need to tell you something. You must know the truth."

"What is it? Tell me."

"I am…a woman. A girl. A female. I am of the fairer gender, an owner of two X chromosomes and contented proud, delighted, of it."

"…I know. We've been married for a year. Put the thesaurus down and help me with this crossword puzzle."

**That's That**

_Dispose (4a) To get rid of._

This is it.

She's twisting the ring off her finger. Slowly, slowly, carefully.

He'll never be hers.

(Her mother warned her)

Not properly.

(_It's like your father and the sky_.)

So it has to stop now.

(But he loves me, she'd said.)

Her hand is naked without the worn gold band. She was never one for jewellery. She swore she'd never take it off.

(Duty, always duty.)

This is it.

She can't take it anymore. The trips, the advisors, the crowds, the gilded cage her life has become.

(_Let others wage war_.)

They fight when they're together for more than five minutes.

The ring, one smooth circle, lies in her palm. It reflects the glowing embers.

This is it.

And finally, finally, finally. She tips her hand.

Her wedding ring slips through her fingers and lands on her pillow.

(_You can always come home, Deryn_.)

It settles there, like it's always been there. Meant to be there.

It's done.

They're done.

She'd warned him.

**Skipping Shipman**

_Nimble (1) Quick, light and easy in movement._

Sky above, ocean below, wind in her face, the future ahead. Deryn tossed back her head and breathed in the salty, warm air.

"Sharp! I asked you to check the bats, not cloudgaze!"

"Sorry Sir!"

Deryn took her eyes off the azure sky and unclipped her safety line. She hurried down to the head, nimbly dodging Sniffers, dancing around crates and winches. She was a born skylark, no doubt about it.

**Gravid Girl**

_Sputum – Saliva, especially mixed with mucus._

Alek coughed and spluttered, sending an unholy mix of tea and bodily fluids across the table.

"You're WHAT?"

"I just said-"

"No. No, nein. Mein Gott, das ist-"

"It's fine, don't give me that look of – are you shocked or in pain, I can't tell…you're not angry are you?"

"Shocked…nicht…not angry."

"How long?"

"Two months."

"TWO MONTHS?"

"Ja Alek, zwei Monate."

"You've been pregnant for two moths and didn't even tell me?" "Well, I had to be sure."

"Sure of what?" "That you wouldn't faint."

**Discarded Disguise**

_Reveal (1) To uncover or make known._

"I really…it's incredible. I wouldn't have believed you, but," Malone paused, chuckled. "This is almost as good as Alek's story, but it's actually believable. He thought he could fool me into thinking he was the lost Prince Aleksander, can you believe that?"

Deryn forced a laugh. Why? Why was she doing this?

"The headlines…any ideas?"

She shrugged, holding back tears. "I-"

"Sharp As A Tack, Flat As A Board?" Malone swept his hands through the air, as if he could see the letters before him. "Man's World; Woman's Soul?"

"Couldn't you keep me anonymous?"

Malone stopped his gesturing and stared. "Anonymous? But I want pictures, boy and girl…"

"You could block my-"

"Block your face? But that's the point! A pretty young thing like you running off to fight? The readers will love it."

"But I won't." Deryn glanced over to Alek and Lilit's table. They were bent over yet more revolution plans. "I don't think they'd appreciate finding out either."

"You might want to reconsider. You'll be a hero to the Allies for this. Sure, there'll be disapproval from the higher ups…"

Deryn shifted. "Back to Scotland, back to Glasgow. I'll be lucky if my mother doesn't kick me out."

"The Americans will love you."

Deryn looked at Malone properly, her eyes clear of tears – finally.

"You'll be a star. Sell the story – the full story back there and you will be set for life. You'll be part of the royalty of the New World, with the flick stars and singers. You and your family will be elevated to the upper classes. You will be powerful."

"Powerful," Deryn whispered.

"And not because you're a midshipman or have a medal. The Women's Liberation Movement is strong in New York. Imagine what you could be, Deryn, if you just…spoke out."

**Winged Whale**

_Aeolus (Greek mythology) The ruler of the winds._

I have no voice, my mouth is sealed shut.

I have no hearing, but I feel my heartbeat.

I have no sight, but I have the wind. I can feel the currents, as real to me as colours to you. In the skies, I am King, Queen, President and Protector. The only danger is lightning, and can sense that. I feel it building, growing and I know to move.

Winds caress, batter, hold, push and abandon but I understand them. I control them.

I am the Leviathan, creature from the deep, swimming in the skies. From the court of Poseidon to the court of Aeolus.

And here, I rule.

**Feuding Family**

_Lambaste – to beat or scold severely._

"Deryn Sharp! What have you done to your doll? That cost us four pounds!"

"She's a soldier, mummy! Look – she marches!"

**...**

"Derek Sharp! Where are you taking her?"

"Just up in the balloon, Mary. We'll be-"

"The BALLOON? Deryn, get back here. That's no place for a young lady."

"Young _lady_? She's six years old! Let her have a childhood, for Christ's sake."

**...**

"Jaspert Sharp! Why are you on the roof? Get down THIS INSTANT."

"I can't!"

"And, pray tell, WHY NOT?"

"Cause Deryn tied me to the chimney."

**...**

"Mary Sharp!"

"Yes, Mrs Stamford. What is it?"

"Your Deryn pushed our Kitty into the McDougal's duck pond and-"

"I'll deal with her."

**...**

"Deryn Sharp!"

"Mum!"

"How come you never wrote home?"

"I thought you were mad, what with me running off an' all."

"Well I'm not. I've never been more proud to call you my daughter…who's this?"

"This is my…friend Alek."

"Ah."

"He's the Emperor of Austria-Hungary."

"Pleasure to-oh. Oops."

"Over she goes."

**I never miss out on a chance to use the word 'ignoramus.' It really needs to come back into common use. The Tsar **_**was**_** an idiot, but it wasn't really his fault. Personally, I blame the rap music.**

**Reviews are, as always, appreciated :D**

**Thanks for reading.**

**-Nicola.**


	7. Everybody Can See It

**There's one difference between this set and the rest. These are all connected in one story, but mixed around. I wouldn't make it that easy for you guys :D**

**Also, I might have typed "Australia" instead of "Austria." Assume it's Austria, unless I make a koala joke or six.**

**DISCLAIMER: This has so much fluff you could stuff six pillows. This may be a good thing. It's probably not. Also, Not Scott.**

**Everybody Can See It**

**(alternatively titled)**

**Ten Ways To Say I Love You**

**Subtly**

If one called the Hapsburgs subtle, in turn, they would be called stupid. The family had once been obsessed with remaining pure and royal, above the serfs and peasants.

The way they'd gone about remaining pure and royal was something no one but the weirdest Southerners would consider.

Their castles, country homes and clothing had been built on the back of heavy taxes and worker exploitation. Marx and Engels weren't the biggest fans of royalty, but they held a special place in their hearts for despising the Hapsburgs.

Alek liked to think he was different.

Sure, at first, he'd been a fool. An ignorant, pompous fool, unable to buy a newspaper or understand hardly anything Dylan said.

It was different now. He (she) knew his secret now, and he knew hers (his). It had taken him three weeks to realize it didn't make a squick of difference.

It had taken him another month to realize that _yes_; it did make a tiny bit of difference. The good kind. And now as he bid Dylan (Deryn) goodnight at his (her) cabin, she touched her heart, and then his.

That was close enough to "I love you" for both of them.

**Quickly**

The bombers whirled closer – dozens, Newkirk had reported. No exact number, but it was enough to send the Leviathan spiraling into the sea, and all of them with it. Two minutes to showdown.

Alek burst from his cabin, pulling on gloves and holding his goggles between his teeth. Deryn was outside waiting for him, covered almost completely by her leather flight suit, scarf and cap.

"One minute," she said, and pushed him back into the cabin.

The door swung shut behind them.

**Spontaneously**

It had been about a fortnight since Deryn had told him about her deception. He hadn't been able to speak to her for a week.

He'd trusted her. And she had kept it from him, all through the Alps and Constantinople and Mexico…

But he couldn't help but realize that this girl, Deryn was no different to his friend Dylan, no matter what gender.

"I knew I could trust you to keep it secret. I was going to tell you in Constantinople Alek. I swear."

"But you didn't."

Deryn sighed. The wind ruffled their hair and made them both shiver.

"I missed flying too much. It's like you and the Leviathan, Alek. I just can't imagine leaving here, leaving it and you again."

Alek stared out over the ocean, into the rising sun. They were heading towards Japan at a steady pace. Deryn shifted beside him, turned to face him properly. The yellow and pink from the sunrise highlighted her features. How could he have ever thought she was a man?

"I am quite a good actress."

Oh. He'd said that out loud. "What will happen if they find out you're a woman?"

"You actually told me. Remember, you said they'd never hang Barlow. I figure I'll tell them I acted alone. They'd send me back to Scotland, take away my medals, everything." she sighed, and turned back to the sun.

"Well, we better not let them find out." said Alek, his palms suddenly sweating. "I couldn't survive on this ship without you, Deryn. I'd miss you too much."

Deryn smiled, slowly. "I'd miss you too, your serene highness."

"And you can't go back to Scotland, you hate it. Come back to Austria with me."

"Me, an unchaperoned lady, in a foreign country? I wouldn't dream of it."

"Deryn."

"Alek."

Come back to Austria? As if she'd want to be stuck in a palace…Alek stood up. "I have to go-"

Deryn grabbed his hand. "I don't know what's going to happen. We'll find out when the war finishes."

"When will that be?"

"Shouldn't you know?" Deryn stood up beside him, so they were nose to nose. "You're the prince."

"I don't want to be. I don't know what I want. My father would want me to be Emperor, obviously, but…I don't know."

"I know what I want."

"What?"

Deryn simply smiled and pressed her warm mouth to his.

**Sweetly**

"Blisters, this looks disgusting."

"What did you get?"

"I'm not sure, I think its seaweed and rice. And there's…" Deryn sniffed her soo-shee. "Fish. What about yours?"

"Same. It's got green sauce on it, though. Waa-sah-bee, that's what the vendor said."

"We'll bite on the count of three, ok? One, two, three-"

They bit.

They chewed.

Deryn didn't mind it.

Alek gagged. His eyes watered and he stumbled to the gutter and spat it out.

"What's wrong?" asked Deryn.

"Waa-sah-bee! It's like pepper and chilli!"

Deryn recalled a similar incident in Mexico, with a bottle of tequila.

"If it's that bad, take mine." she said, and pressed her soo-shi into Alek's hand.

"You don't have any money left," said Alek.

"I've got enough. And dinner's only in a few hours, anyway."

**Germanly**

"Well, of course the _Osman_ could take on two ironclads. Are you an idiot?"

Newkirk laughed. "Yeah, but the Tesla cannons-"

"Right." said Deryn. "You know what we're having for dinner?"

"No idea."

"Hi, Dylan. Newkirk."

"Alek," said Deryn. "Where are you going?"

"Volger." said Alek. "Something about Russia pulling out of the war. He wants to discuss what it means for the-"

"Wow, that's boring. Come on, Dylan. We'll miss dinner."

Deryn gave Alek a wave. "Tschüss."

"Ich liebe dich. Aufwiedersehen."

"Ich liebe dich auch."

The Middies continued on t heir way.

"What did you just say in Clanker?"

"Hmm? Oh, I'll be seeing you. Yep. That's it."

Newkirk would only find out Deryn had lied when he visited Austria and met with their Finance Minister. There was very nearly an international incident.

**Silently**

She was beautiful, night or day, but especially when she slept. Her brow furrowed and she turned in a dream. Her tiny fists clenched and unclenched, her tiny nails catching the lamp light. How odd that he would notice that. He noticed everything about her – about both of them.

On the other side of the crib, Deryn caught his eye and they shared a smile. Alek reached across and took her hand.

Everything was perfect.

**Patiently**

_Japan, 1914_

"I love you. I love you, I love you."

"Deryn?"

"Just know, Alek. I love you."

"I-I love you, too. What's wrong?"

"They know."

_Glasgow, 1918_

"Excuse me, my good man. Could you tell me where the Sharp family lives?"

"There's a few Sharps round here."

"Deryn Sharp and her family."

Everyone in Glasgow knew where Deryn Sharp lived. The cab driver pointed up the hill.

"Thank you."

"Can I ask what's your business with her? They get a fair few journalists up there."

"I'm in love with her, and I haven't seen her since 1914."

"Ah. I'll have to give you a ride then."

_Glasgow, 1918 (about twenty minutes later.)_

"Here we are then."

"Thank you very much."

Alek tipped the man extra and hurried up a graveled path, his shiny black boots crunching loudly. Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand and rang the doorbell.

The cab driver decided to stick around and see what happened.

An elderly woman in a blue dress answered, gave Alek a good hard stare.

"You're a kraut." she said, finally.

"No madam. I'm Austrian."

"Austrian, German, they're all the same. What can I do for you? Another interview? Photos?"

"No, madam. I'm in love with your daughter. I've been looking for her for nearly a year."

The woman stepped back and gave Alek another good hard stare. Then she turned, stepped back into the house and slammed the door in his face.

"You need a lift back to town?" the driver shouted.

Alek waved him off and rang the bell again.

"She's not home!" yelled the woman.

"May I come in then?"

"NO!"

Alek turned and sat on the front door steps. He'd wait until…he'd wait.

_Glasgow, 1918 (six hours later.)_

He really hoped he'd gotten the right house.

_Glasgow, 1918 (an hour later.)_

It was nearly nightfall, and a fine mist was falling. Alek sighed, rubbing his hands together. He'd have to go back to town and to an inn. But…

Five more minutes.

_Glasgow, 1918 (four minutes later.)_

He was dozing where he sat, when there was a strange crunch.

"Excuse me, what are you doing?"

He jolted awake, nearly head butting a young man in the face.

"I'm waiting for Deryn Sharp. I've been in love with her since the war and I want to marry her-"

"Deryn Sharp?" the man crossed his arms. "Sorry mate, that's not going to happen."

"Why on earth not?"

"Because I'm Jaspert, her brother, and she's not here. She's at the village dance. Come on, I'll take you. But before you marry my sister, you have to buy me a beer."

"You're not serious."

"Rules, mate. Come on."

**Angr****ily**

"See? SEE! This is why I wanted to stay in Istanbul."

"Alek, it's fine. They're not going to do anything to you."

"Anything? Dylan, you said Volger got a cabin to himself!"

"He did, it's just-"

"I'm wearing handcuffs!"

"I didn't know they'd do that. It's just cause you took Bovril, they'll let you go soon."

"I knew we should have gone with Lilit."

"What, grabbed onto her kite and hoped gravity was in a good mood?"

"She could have taken one of us. I've been looking at the plans and-"

"And what would you have done then, stuck round in Istan-Constantinople and revolted for the rest of your life?"

"Better than a life in chains. Literally."

"You love the _Leviathan_ too much to leave."

"I'd miss you too. You could have come with me, Dylan."

"A Scottish g-_guy _like me in Turkey? I barely spoke the language. I would have been useless."

"You're not useless to me, Dylan."

**Eternally**

The snow crunched underfoot, the falling flakes muffling the sounds of the motorway over the fence. The graveyard was empty but for them, approaching the two marble slabs.

"Three weeks, you know. To the day."

"I do know, and shut up."

"Almost to the hour."

"Shut up, Sam. Please."

The pair approached the graves, holding a flower apiece.

"Eleanor, do you want to say-"

Eleanor, a woman in her early thirties knelt by the grave on the left, brushed snow from the gold engraving.

**DERYN SHARP-FERDINAND**

1899 – 1972

SOLDIER, WIFE, MOTHER

"_Do What You Feel Is Right."_

"Deutsch, oder English?" she asked. Her German wasn't quite as good as Sam's. Her accent was better than his, though.

"Whatever feels right." Sam knelt by the other grave and wiped the snow away.

**ALEKSANDER FERDINAND**

1899 – 1971

RULER, FIGHTER, FATHER

"_Bis Morgen."_

"Mama, Papa." she began. "It's been a year and we miss you both so much…"

**Accidentally**

"That's Sirius, the dog star. I don't know what it would be in Clanker-"

"Ernst."

"That's Ursa Minor, the Little Bear. My da used to say Russia had put it up there."

"I know that, and Ursa Major. How long did it take you to learn the constellations, Deryn?"

"I'm surprised you don't know them. It took me a while. Da would tell me the stories behind them, you see. That helped me remember."

"What stories?"

"You don't know the stories behind the constellations? What did you do with yourself when you were little?"

I played soldiers a lot. Learnt four languages. Played soldiers some more."

"Oh yeah, with Alex Romano."

"Alexei Romanov, and that was once."

"That's Andromeda, then. She's there, see."

"That?"

"No, that's the Saucepan. See, curving down-"

"Oh, I see."

"She was a princess, and her ma, Cassiopeia, bragged about how beautiful she was. The Gods got mad and chained Andromeda to a rock in the ocean-"

"As you do."

"As you do, and she was going to get eaten by this monster, till her boyfriend, Perseus, I think he was a prince, showed up and killed it and freed her. I always thought she was wimpy."

"Yes, you'd escape yourself, fight off the monster and find your own hero. That's why I love you. Uh-"

"I found my pr-Alek?"

"Yes?"

"I love you too."

**Happy Valentines Day. If you don't have a valentine, it's because no one deserves a person as wonderful as you.**

**Seriously.**

**I have no idea how the Hapsburg treated the common folk. I actually figure (with limited internet access, damn storms -P) that they were more benevolent leaders than the Romanovs (Alexei, for a hemophiliac and the chosen leader by God, was a dick) or the Tudors, who liked to change state religion like I change socks. Of course, I could be wrong, I usually am.**

**Deryn's use of 'guy,' is not an anachronism and I have a vague memory of her using it in Behemoth. Again, probably wrong.**

**I live in the Southern Hemisphere, which has different (and better :D) constellations to the Northern Hemisphere, so I just looked up a few northern stars for Deryn to point out. I have no idea if they'd be able to see them, but just assume they can. The Southern Hemisphere's most famous constellation is called, originally enough, the Southern Cross. We can also see the Milky Way, which always freaked me out as a kid because I couldn't understand that I was **_**looking **_**at our galaxy, even though we were in it.**

**I actually had some Japanese exchange students once and they were astounded at our stars. It helps I live quite a way out from any of our cities, so we get a pretty amazing view :)**

**And I am not going into the myth of Andromeda or Perseus. Just…no.**

**I'm not too happy with how 'Eternally' turned out. It went through six rewrites. I like the idea but I just can't get it one hundred percent perfect.**

**Sorry, I'll stop yammering now. Know that I love annotations on other stories, and in a fandom like this, where "history and playing with it" could be a genre, they're even more fun :D**

**As I promised, no ACTUAL 'Deryn's Reveal' fics this week! I am so proud of myself.**

**Thanks for reading, and happy Valentines.**

**-Nicola.**


	8. Everybody Get Guessing

**ONE HUNDRED FICS IN THIS FANDOM! HOORAY! HOORAY! Everyone gets a free sense of excitement at all the lovely writing that's being done.**

**Please remember, BETA first, POST later. FFS.**

**These come from either the WMG (Wild Mass Guessing) section of the Leviathan page on TV Tropes dot org and the fandoms three biggest assumptions about what's going to happen in Goliath.**

**But boy am I branching out. I've got slash relationships going both ways in here!**

**WARNING: If you do not know what TV Tropes is, do not visit that site. You will lose what free time you have in an endless spiral of links and fanfic recs and Crowning Moments of Awesome/Heartwarming/Funny and so on.**

**Also, slash…**

**DISCLAIMER: Not Scott.**

**Everybody Get Guessing**

**(alternatively, and pathetically titled)**

**Ten Ways Wacky Westerfeld Could Wander Off On**

**Deryn's secret will be revealed through her getting injured.**

"_Or perhaps…perhaps…NOT GETTING INJURED ENOUGH. I am a GOD in HUMAN FORM." – _Yours truly.

"You have breasts."

"Yes."

"I assume this means…the uh…you have a-uh…"

"All the mechanics of someone who usually has breasts."

"Oh. That explains…a lot, actually."

"Yeah, it does."

"Especially that thing with the socks down your pants."

"That was awkward, wasn't it."

"Yes. And the refusing to go swimming…"

"No, I just didn't want to go swimming in water near Australia."

"Why not?"

"You'll find out at the zoo tomorrow."

"It also explains the cricket bat."

"I never understood, why did that give me away?"

"Hit me there with a cr- No, on second thoughts, do it to Newkirk."

**Bovril and the other perspicacious loris will continue to become more and more intelligent until they are entirely sentient beings, thus breaking one of the chief rules of Darwinist fabrication.**

"_Brevity is wit." – _Iforget_._

"Alek…I…" Dylan began. 'His' voice faltered and he knotted his fingers together.

I sighed and turned to my compatriot. "Again?"

"Again." he agreed.

"I'm a…I'm a-"

"Dylan, calm down." the boy said. This was the fifth time this had happened and he still hadn't picked up on it.

Dylan's voice squeaked as he continued. "I'm not who you think I am."

"Really?" murmured my cushion mate, the only other creature on the ship with intelligence on par with yours truly. "Must she do this every week?"

"It seems to happen daily."

"Hourly."

"Too far, Bovril."

"Indeed. But I do find it endearing."

I cannot blame Bovril (his human name) for finding the awkward fumblings of Miss Sharp (aka Mr Sharp) and his Royal Highness Aleksander Ferdinand, as he calls them, 'cute.' I however, find the scientific side far more interesting.

"I'm a, g-You have to know-" "Oh, honestly." I whispered to Bovril.

"Yes, perhaps it is a little tiresome. Care to enslave humanity and keep them in bondage for the next three centuries?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

**Alek and Deryn **_**won't**_** get together.**

"_Everything I know about sex, I learnt from slashers." – _LiveJournal avatar.

"_Do not meddle in the affairs of slashers, for you are cute and look good with other men."_ – Another LiveJournal Avatar.

Gold covered the chandeliers, dripped from the architraves and hung around the necks of the rich who milled like well-dressed cattle.

Under the hubbub, she could just hear the sweeping sounds of a violin. It was Glinka, of course.

How perfectly disgusting.

"There are people begging at the palace gates – look at this!" Lilit gestured, her own gold bangles clinking together.

"Hypocrite," said Deryn. "Be quiet, I think they're coming out."

"Millions die, and all it took for it to stop was Alek getting married."

"There's more to it than that, but look at this place, Deryn! You saw those children-"

"Quiet, please." said a tall, dark man beside them.

Deryn and Lilit settled and a hush fell over the crowd. The orchestra fell silent for a few beats, then launched into a new fanfare.

A broad chested man in a white military uniform began to shout in Russian.

"You've complained this entire trip," said Deryn, as the guards opened the (gold covered, heavy oak) doors and the Emperor of Austria and his new wife stepped into the room. "Alek paid for us to come out here and his one condition was-"

"That you don't embarrass him. Didn't say anything about me."

The crowd parted as Alek and his new wife crossed the room, shoulders back and faces impassive.

Deryn cleared her throat and Alek's head turned. Their eyes met and they both smiled.

As the couple passed, Lilit slipped her hand into Deryn's. Their fingers intertwined.

Yes, the castle, the wedding and the entire Russian Empire was disgusting. But the food was _fantastic_.

**The Japanese will have kick-ass fabricated beasts.**

"_All of them are either partially or entirely crazy."_ – Cracked.

"Picka?"

"What the bloody HELL is that? Dr. Barlow, do you-"

"I can honestly say I have no idea – oh Lord, there's another one."

"Bullbarzaw!"

"Doctor – oh…have you fainted? Uh…I'll take that as a yes."

"WRAPADASH!"

"AUGH! JESUS! DYLAN, HELP!"

"Alek…you scream like a girl."

"So do you!"

"Well…yes. What are you so scared of? And why is Barlow on the floor."

"T-that thing!"

"Picka?"

"Aww, look at it - it looks like a rabbit and a rat had a baby and it got jaundice! Aww."

"SKWIRTLE!"

"I hate Japan. I hate it, I hate it hate it."

"What's wrong? You got used to the Leviathan, and that's even more disturbing than this little…what are you, beastie?"

"Pikachu."

"That's it, we're going to Australia for supplies."

**WWII won't happen/Deryn and Alek will end up together. (COUNTS FOR TWO! TWO!)**

"_Your boys are not going to be sent into any foreign wars."_ – Roosevelt.

"_We would have fought them on the beaches…If there'd been a them to fight…on said beaches."_ – This AU's Winston Churchill.

_1945_

"Happy fifteenth wedding anniversary, Alek."

"Happy anniversary, Deryn."

The (Constitutional) King and Queen of the Austria kissed over a pot of marmalade. Their butler pulled a face and made a hasty exit.

Finally, the couple broke the kiss and smiled at each other, before going back to their breakfast. Tea and toast on delicate, rose patterned plates and matching cups. Shame there was no vegemite.

"Gosh, it's been so nice since the end of the Great War." Deryn nibbled delicately on a crust.

"I agree," said Alek, stirring his tea idly. "Nothing bad has happened. At all."

"Nope. Oh, here comes Volger. He's looking good for his age, isn't he?"

"Absolutely. What is it, Volger?"

"I have some bad news, majesties." Volger leaned on his cane and wondered vaguely why he was still working for Alek well past retirement age. Then he forgot why he'd come in and picked up a piece of toast.

"Well, what is it? Out with it, man!" Alek's tea was getting cold. This concerned him. Ah, the easy life of the constitutional moron. I mean, monarch.

"Hmmm?" Volger sprayed crumbs over the table. In the next room, the Butler wept and headed for the liquor cabinet. "Ah, yes. Your favourite artist, the one who's coming to paint the family portrait-"

"Schickelgruber, yes."

"Well, Mr. Schickelgruber committed suicide this morning. Hung himself."

"Hung himself?" asked Deryn, and then sipped at her coffee. "Why?"

"He left a note cursing a 'western field' and parallel universes. The telegram is in your office, sire."

Alek shrugged. "Perhaps this is for the best. If he was mad, well…we couldn't have him here."

"No, Alek. Remember, he was halfway through a portrait of the Tsar and the Tsarina."

"Poor Alexei," said Alek, picking up his newspaper.

"Poor Alexei? More like poor Valentina. Half finished portrait and half man dead man, both hanging around. It's hard enough for her with the children running about."

"Indeed. Ah well, we can always get that Russian sketch artist…what was his name again, the mustached one?"

Deryn stared into space for a moment, fiddling with her pearls. "Oh, Josef…something. Do we have any concentrated yeast extract?"

Volger shrugged. "I do believe it's Stalin."

"Yes." Alek put down his tea cup, somehow in agreeing manner. "Get him."

**We'll wind up in France or Russia somehow during Goliath. (COUNTS FOR TWO! COUNTS FOR TWOOOOO!)**

"_And now we're going to google Rasputin's penis!" – _History teacher_._

**RUSSIA, LEVIATHAN STYLE:**

"Hey…Trotsky. Hey. Trotsky."

"What?"

"In Soviet Ru-"

"Shut up, Stalin! Not yet."

"In Soviet Russia-"

"Perhaps never, considering the wester field…"

"In Soviet Russia, fanfic reads you!"

"I said shut up."

"Get it? Get it, because-"

"I can't believe you won't shut up!"

**OR, ALTERNATIVELY:**

Deryn was chilling. By the River Neyva. In Petrograd. Which, until recently, was known as St. Petersburg. It wouldn't be St. Petersburg again for a very long time.

Perhaps never.

You never know, do you? You never know.

It was chilly, chilling by the River Neyva, as it was winter in Russia.

It gets cold in Petrograd, all the way up there near the Arctic Circle. Just chilling.

She wondered vaguely if she would be out of Russia before Christmas. Alek got to hang at the palace with the Tsarina, the bratty little Tsarevitch and his four twittering sisters who looked exactly alike.

That's royal families for you. Inbred.

Deryn vaguely wondered if Alek's parents or grandparents had been related.

Probably. Unfortunately.

Our favourite cross dressing middie shifted from foot to foot. Russia is slippery, and she fell over in a heap.

Badass.

Deryn was at a completely different palace to Alek, living with the oddest prince she'd ever met. And considering it's Miss Deryn Sharp we're talking about, that's saying a lot.

Odd though, Deryn thought, tilting her good looking head to one side. One day you're just a skinny lass up there in Glasgow, eating haggis, playing bagpipes, and doing other Scottish stuff and the next you're standing in outside in Russia trying to get some air, because the guy Yusopov had invited over smelt.

Really bad.

But Yusopov was cool. They just chilled. He did some weird flippy thing with his hands when he spoke though.

Deryn shuffled her feet in the snow and shivered. She still contrived to look badass, though. That's our Deryn.

Just chilling.

All of a sudden, she heard a giggle, loud in the cold night air. A very…effeminate giggle.

Yusopov giggled like that. Didn't sound manly at all.

Deryn was no longer just chilling. She whirled around, slipped on the icy cobblestones and fell flat on her face.

Badass.

We'd like to take this point to mention that Russia is slippery.

Deryn wobbled to her feet, brushed the snow off her front and started to go back into the palace.

"DOOOMED!" a man's voice yelled. "You will bring doom upon the Romanovs!" "Hush, peasant!" shouted Yusopov. There was a gunshot and a shout. Deryn started, remembered she wasn't on a ship full of hydrogen and ran for the back doors to the palace.

Another gunshot. Deryn, being badass, continued to run.

Did we mention Russia, apart from being cold, is really, really slippery?

Deryn slipped, tumbled and whacked her precious little Scottish head against a large blunt object. Her head swam and she lay against the snow and cobblestones groaning.

Rather like a boss, Deryn. Almost exactly like a boss.

A man staggered past, spurting blood from various bullet holes in his body.

"Rasputin!" someone sang.

Yusopov and his other rather effeminate friend ran past holding chains and a long metal rod, thick as a man's arm. Thankfully, Deryn passed out at this point and only woke up when she heard a shout and a splash.

"What I miss?" she asked groggily.

Yusopov rubbed her back and offered her a glass of something. "Nothing much."

"Your highness, not that glass! It's got cyanide in it!"

**FRANCE, LEVIATHAN STYLE:**

"_Ya cheese eatin' surrender monkeys!" – _Groundskeeper Willie.

"I can't believe this," said Dylan, staring opened mouthed at the photo. "This explains why they've never lost a war!"

"The French have one of the best armies in the world," said Alek. "They launch strafing hawks from Commander Eiffel's tower."

"I know, but their army. It's…it's the scariest thing I've ever seen. But I can't look away."

"Indeed." Alek strolled over and studied the photo. "An entire army of mimes…"

**Volger doesn't know Deryn's real secret.**

"_One never knows when a homosexual is about." – _1950s ad.

Alek stopped at the door, rested a hand against the varnished wood and quickly polished his boots on the back of his pant legs. He smoothed his hair, hoped he didn't have any engine grease on his face and knocked on the door.

"Enter," said Volger, and Alek stepped inside, shutting the door quietly behind him.

"You wanted to talk to me." Alek said.

"Ja. Where is Mr. Sharp?"

Alek checked his watch. "It's half-to-one so…he's on watch."

"You know his schedule." said Volger. His mouth twisted. "This is worse than I thought."

"Sorry?"

"Sit."

Alek sat on the one available chair. It was rather uncomfortable. It could have used a cushion. Too much weight, Alek supposed. Those damn gold bars.

"This about Mr. Sharp and I suppose…you." said Volger. "I've dealt with nobility who've fallen into…similar problems. As yours."

"I'm confused."

"Yes, yes you are."

"I'm sorry?"

Volger steepled his fingers and leant forward. "Alek, I believe Mr. Sharp may be a homosexual, luring you into his trap."

"What? Sorry, can we speak in German – my English isn't _this_ good."

"Ja, ach so. Ich denke dein Freunde Herr Sharp ist ein-"

"Oh wait." Alek frowned. "The readers don't speak German. My apologies. Volger. What is a homosexual?"

(five very awkward moments later)

"And that's why Mr. Sharp will burn in hell for all eternity."

"Gott im Himmel! I can't…Ich kann…Ich muss…Ach, nein."

"What is wrong?"

"Why do I find him so devilishly attractive then?"

**If they're ever shown, the Australians are going to have the scariest fabricated beasts.**

_"Ah, Australian animals. If it isn't venomous, carnivorous, or has foot-long claws, it's a tourist." _—RPG dot net.

_Australian Military Zoo, Batmanville_

"Doctor Barlow?" asked the young woman.

"Yes, and this is my assistant, Alek."

The lady inclined her head. "My name is Matilda. Um, this way please."

Doctor Barlow brushed some flies from her shoulder. "Where is Doctor Waltzen? I understand he is the Zoo Keeper."

Matilda smiled. "He was stung by one of the exhibits and won't be walking for a few days. I know the zoo and animals as well as he does. Please, follow me."

"This," said Matilda, gesturing to a dimly lit, water filled tank. "We use this creature for our Navy. It uses electrical pulses to sense underwater mines."

"Defensive," nodded Barlow.

"We have an airship," said Alek. "Underwater creatures are useless." "Ah, the platypus is useful on land, too." Matilda donned heavy, rubber gloves, reached into the water and after a few minutes of struggle brought the strangest creature Alek had ever seen to the surface. It had a duck's bill, with silky brown fur on its body, flippers and a beaver-like tail.

Well, in Australia at least. He still couldn't get over the flechette bats.

"Platypus." said Matilda. "This is a male, we call it Paul. These stingers on his back legs produce a toxin that paralyses the victim for days on end. It never leaves the system and can cause further paralysis years down the track. The anti-venom is kept under lock and key and is unavailable in any country but Australia."

The platypus flopped back into the water.

"Desert mole."

"Oh, dear God."

Thud.

"Excellent for again, mine detection. They do grow on you, after a while."

"Sorry, just wait a moment. Alek's fainted."

"This is the common Australian Bull Ant."

Once again, Matilda had thick gloves up over her elbows. She reached down into a blackened glass jar and when her hand came out it was crawling with angry red, inch long ants. Their pincers added another half inch to their length and dripped with venom.

"These are similar to your barnacles, but breed much faster. We drop jars of these on ships, into walkers, onto airships. They infest the walls and if a crewman finds them, well – they like human flesh."

Thud.

Matilda shook the ants back into the jar. "Look, mate, if he's going to keep fainting he can go wait in my office."

"Just leave him," said Barlow. "He'll find his own way."

"Perhaps we'll skip the spider exhibits?"

They passed an enclosure with large black birds, with blue necks and red crests.

"Cassowaries." said Matilda, giving them a wide berth. "My father is a fan. Me…not so much. Wonderful for guarding bases, though."

"Cone shells, for our navy. No kraut divers here. Death in twenty four hours, give or take for weight."

"What is that?" asked Barlow, pointing to a blue and yellow octopus in a separate tank. Its tentacles curled and uncurled, somehow contriving to do so in a malevolent manner.

"Blue-Ringed Octopus. That was a mistake. It can kill a man in sixty seconds with its poison darts."

Alek frowned. "What's wrong with that?"

"A scratch. A scratch from one of these will kill you. We can't have our handlers dying, can we? No. Would you like to hold a koala before you go? Vegemite? No?"

_Leviathan, above the Australian Military Zoo, Batmanville._

"Nora, why didn't you bring back any new fabs?"

"…they…they didn't suit our purposes."

**I deliberately spelt the names of the Pokémon (for of course, twas they) wrong. Don't worry. I'm not that ignorant of pop culture.**

**According to both Cracked and my history teacher, Stalin did enjoy sketching people. Namely, mostly naked young men, but lets not dwell on that fact and instead wonder why Lenin, Hitler, Stalin and Trotsky all had mustaches.**

**According to the reliable source that is Wikipedia, Mikhail Glinka is regarded as one of the fathers of Russian Classical Music. He also had an absolutely wonderful mustache and beard set, but was not a Marxist or Revolutionary. Probably anti-Semitic, though.**

**Rasputin is of course, one of the major players in the first (or second, depending on your views about January 9th, 1905) revolution of Russia. Sort of. Yes. Prince Yusopov was either gay or bisexual and invited Rasputin over to his house to kill him, as he believed it would save Russia's royal family.**

**Rasputin's death was quite messy. Go look it up, it's actually quite amazing how long he lasted. St. Petersburg also has a lot of canals that freeze solid in winter and can be walked across, which explains Deryn's Extreme Falling Skills.**

**I wrote out the French Military one and then realized it's clowns people are usually scared of, not mimes. Mimes are the ones people want to beat up. Too bad, too sad. Perhaps in the Leviathan Universe mimes are like ninjas. Let's go with that.**

**The Australian military is all about defense, ever since we were fucked over in (surprise, surprise) World War One. Go look up Gallipoli. Then jump forward to WWII (I think) and check out the Kokoda Track. Hence most of Australia's animals being used for defensive purposes. We're an island, islands are good for defending.**

**The joke with the Australian one is none of the animals were fabs, and none of their defense mechanisms were made up. Actually, we don't have an anti-venom for platypus poison. So, sucks to be you if you get hit. More details on Aussie wildlife are on TV Tropes, under 'Australian Wildlife.' Go there, and never come here for fear of being stung, bitten, burnt, chewed, licked or kicked. The animals are pretty scary too.**

**Also, the Irukandji jellyfish. That's why I don't go swimming on holiday up north, even with nets and the usual gear on.**

**Thanks for reading and…ONE HUNDRED FICS! YAY!**

**-Nicola.**


	9. Everybody Get A Room

**Slightly (who am I kidding, extremely) cheesy this week. Ten kisses between Deryn and Alek because to quote Ke-dollar sign-ha, we are who we are, and we're Dalek shippers. It's MEANT TO BE!**

**Lilit/Deryn can be Leryn. Dylan/Alek can be Allan.**

**Gosh we're a cool fandom, aren't we?**

**So, ten kisses/songfic challenge here. ROCK ON!**

**Also, here's a self-serving, half-rhyming promo for my other Leviathan story, Double Dutch!**

It's hilariously outrageous

and not homoerotic at all!

The laughs are simply contagious.

And believe me, that's not all-

There's stubble and shirtless Alek,

(and Newkirk too, but no one gives a care)

Deryn falls off the topside six times

And all this as the Leviathan flies through the air.

**Coincidentally, can we break 100 reviews this chapter? It would be just fabulous if we could :D**

**DISCLAIMER: Not Scott.**

**Everybody Get A Room **

**(Alternatively titled)**

**Ten Ways To Get To First Base**

**Where The Bloody Hell Is The Ambulance?**

_**Staying Alive – The BeeGees**_

_Uh uh uh uh, stayin' alive, stayin' alive._

It should have been beautiful. Smooth, golden sand. Sapphire blue waves, azure sky. A large number of ridiculously good people standing around. Honestly, you'd think they were in Australia or something. Let's just say they were.

But no. Everyone can swim in Australia. Turns out, Alek couldn't. Or he couldn't avoid the Blue-Ringed Octopus and its toxic venom. Let's go with the idea that Alek sucks at swimming. At least then he has a chance of survival. Anyway, where were we? Oh yes. It should have been beautiful. Unfortunately, no. Oder – Leider, nein.

"Breathe, you moron!" Deryn pressed her palms down on Alek's chest, approximately where his heart would be. Push, rest, push, rest.

"What were you thinking you clart-head? Diving off some rocks?" Push, rest, push, rest. It was a shame there was no particular rhythm to do it to, as the Bee Gees hadn't been born yet.

"Dylan, you have to get some air into his lungs!" someone yelled.

"WHY WON'T ANYONE HELP ME?" Push, rest, push, rest.

"DRAMA!"

"RIGHT!"

Still push-rest-push-resting, Deryn shuffled along until she could reach Alek's pale face. She paused in her push-rest-push-resting and opened his mouth.

He had good teeth. Good for someone in 1915, anyway.

"WAIT A SEC, DYL! THERE'S SLASH FANGIRLS RUNNING BY."

Deryn continued to compress Alek's chest until the cluster of giggling, bespectacled girls had run past on their way to a Doctor/Master drabble. Push-rest-push-rest.

Right-o.

She abandoned Alek's (muscly, toned) chest completely, leaned down and covered his (muscly, toned) mouth (wait, what?) with her own. She breathed out with all the force she could muster (again, what?), leaned back, breathed into his mouth again and then pumped his chest for a few beats.

"You can tell by the way I use my walk-" said someone.

"Shut up, Newkirk."

"Breathe, Alek, breathe." said Deryn, and breathed for him again.

"-That I'm a woman's man, no time to talk…"

It should have been beautiful and romantic. You know. The handsome lady-boy saves the ridiculously good-looking, muscly heir to the throne of Austria. He spits a little sea water to the side, and then gazes into the lady-boys eyes. They stare at each other, the electricity between the two making the air crackle and the Leviathan explode.

Thing is, though, people usually vomit after CPR.

Alek was no exception.

**Seen It All**

_**God Only Knows – The Beach Boys**_

_As long as there are stars above you, you never need to doubt it, I'll make you so sure about it._

He's already seen her in the dress. In the veil. In the makeup. With the flowers. _(she's allergic to lilies, but her mother loves them.)_

Deryn takes his breath away. She manages to reign herself in, walk demurely down the aisle _(though she is finding it a little uncomfortable to run these days.)_

And now the priest is talking, with such a thick accent he can barely understand what he's saying _(what was that about a holey ghost?)_

He can just see Deryn's curved mouth behind her thick veil, her hands resting in his, warm through silk gloves. _(they hide rope scars and calluses, but those make her even more beautiful.)_

It's his turn to say it. _(I do)_

And she has to make more promises, to care for him and bear his children _(about that…)_ and care for them and stand by him. _(he'll do the same for her, even if God doesn't require it.)_

And now it's time for him to lift the veil and he's seen it all and then there's this and _(she's his.)_

"You may kiss your bride."

_(he's hers.)_

**Tunnel of Love**

_**Young Lust – Pink Floyd**_

_I need a dirty woman, oh, I need a dirty girl._

"They're following us, Dylan!" Alek said.

Their footsteps slapped against the wet concrete, splashes echoing through the tunnel.

"I know, I know let me think," gasped Dylan. He took a sharp left and the pair found themselves beside a river.

Alek bent over and spat. "We're done for. They saw us go under there."

"I'm not gonna let those clart-heads catch you."

"A little late for that, I believe."

Alek was right – they could hear footsteps and voices in the tunnel, saw green lantern light.

"There's – there's no where to go." he said. Finally, he'd run out of luck. Volger and Klopp were still on the Leviathan. They had no weapons. All he had was Dylan.

"Come here." said Dylan. The middie stripped off his leather coat and handed it to Alek, rubbed his hands in the ashy mud of the river.

"What are you-" began Alek, but as Dylan wiped his filthy hands over his blonde hair, turning it brown he understood.

"They're going to see right through – woah!"

Dylan pushed Alek up against the edge of the tunnel, gave him an odd look and pressed their lips together. Just as their pursuers came through the tunnel, Dylan gave a strange sigh and moved his hands over Alek's face, hiding it from view.

Alek felt himself melt as Dylan's lips move against his – no! Dylan was a boy, a friend. No.

Didn't stop him kissing back. It took about five minutes for the prince to realize their pursuers had passed by.

"Dylan – mm – Dylan!" he said, pushing the Scotsman off him. "We should uh-"

Dylan stood there, flushed and tousled. Alek doubted he looked much better.

"Five more minutes." he said, and they were kissing again.

**Parrot**

_**Hey Jude – The Beatles**_

_The movement you need is on your shoulder._

If there was one thing his father ever told him, repeated to him, drilled into him was that Alek, You Are A Man. You May Be The Heir To The Throne. You Do Not Cry.

And so, Alek Does Not Cry. He _Is_ The Heir, And He Does Not Cry.

Except you know, now. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, blurring his vision. A lump of hard packed cloth in his throat, the taste of salt in his mouth.

At least the damn engines are working today. He can just sit down here in the pod, cloth over the lamp and just Not Cry.

"Alek?"

Alek swallows past the lump in his throat. "Dylan?" "Aye, it's me." the other boy climbs down into the dimmed room, clutching a paper bag. It's dripping. "I brought you some dinner."

"What-"

"Haggis."

"Oh God-"

"Not really, it's mash. And some sausages, but Bovril got peckish so you get half of one." Dylan passed the bag over. Alek put it to one side.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, the only noise their breathing and the rustle of the bag as Alek carefully extracted the half sausage. He stared at it gloomily and then took a bite. Dylan made a funny noise and shuffled over to sit right next to him.

Awkward in the small space, he slid an arm around Alek's shoulders.

"The first year's the worst." he finally said.

Alek sighed, rested his head against Dylan's. Dylan hugged him roughly and pressed a quick kiss to the top of his head. "Alek, I'm your friend. Just remember I'm here for you."

"I wish I could have been for you."

"Well, you're here now. Are you going to eat the rest of that?"

**Hosanna**

_**Suddenly Seymour – Little Shop of Horrors**_

_Suddenly Seymour is standing beside me. He don't give me orders, he don't condescend._

"You're a girl!"

Well, this was going better than I expected. "Yes, I am. I can't apologise enough, Alek. I tried to-"

"You're a girl! This is so wonderful! THANK GOD!" Alek leapt into the air, threw his arms up. "I was so worried I was a – especially with Newkirk, but you're a girl!"

"I'm so happy you're happy!"

Alek stopped leaping, smoothed his hair down. "What's your name?"

I smiled. "Deryn."

"Deryn. Deryn." he said. "It's perfect. You are a Deryn."

"And you're acting just a little bit weird, even for – mmph!"

Alek broke the kiss (unfortunately) and we stumbled back from each other, gasping.

"If I'm being too forward-"

"No."

"I apologize-"

I grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close. "Don't even start."

And he didn't.

**The Liar**

_**Layla – Derek and the Dominos**_

_Like a fool, I fell in love with you._

_A girl_ like it was a disgusting swearword. _A girl. All this time…you-_

You want to scream, shout, beg –

_Lügner. You…you bitch._ is all he says and you snap. You leap at him, your chair falls to the ground and for a second he fights back and then remembers and then…stops.

Because you aren't his friend any more.

Because you're a girl now.

They don't speak.

He doesn't look at her.

_Bitch._

_Whore._

_Lügner. __Liar._

_How could you do this to me, Dylan?_ …It's, it's Deryn.

_Why didn't you tell me? I thought we were friends._

We are friends…I was-

_I can't see you any more._

Alek

_I trusted you-_

Alek

_You took advantage of me. You lied to me-_

And life has to go on as normal, small mercy that is. Newkirk isn't so bad, but he wasn't part of your revolution. He hasn't lost a parent, he isn't an outsider, he doesn't need to fly the way you need to breathe.

And Barlow knows, Something Is Up but, small mercy she doesn't push and from the infinite space of her trunk produces a chocolate bar.

And Volger gives you a fencing lesson and whacks you round the knees when you start slouching. He too knows, Something Is Up, but he's not a girl and the Manly thing (and ironically, the British thing) to do is Keep Calm And Carry On.

And so, You Keep Calm And Carry On.

_Why?_

I needed to fly. I didn't think-

_Well, you obviously did. You're here, and hidden-_

I didn't know-

_Didn't know what?_

I didn't know I'd fall in love with you.

And life Keeps Calm And Carries On and Carries you with it.

And then one day, he looks at you with those eyes.

_You're not any different are you?_

I'm a sacred vessel of life. Otherwise, no. No different.

And he laughs and you've missed that.

The war drags on. The Clankers and the Darwinists fight over the Ottoman Republic, join my side and get this join our side and get that please this needs to end and no come with us we've got flying whales ah yes but you're Muslim come with us we have giant robots and but flying whales! Muslim remember?

1918.

There's shouts of joy below and music and dancing but you have to stand here, on the topside because Mr. Sharp, You're Too Young To Drink…Can You Do My Watch For Me?

You don't mind.

_Deryn_?

Alek.

_It's beautiful up here._

Yes, I'm going to miss it.

_I'm going to miss you._

Me too. What's going to happen to-

_Deryn_.

Alek?

_Would you be terribly offended if I kissed you?_

I don't think so.

_Wunderbar._

**Our Luck**

_**Nothing Suits Me Like A Suit – Neil Patrick Harris**_

_To score a ten would be just fine, but I'd rather be dressed to the nines._

"I don't know about Austria, but in Scotland it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding."

Alek ran his fingers along Deryn's wrist, the only thing visible under layers of tulle, lace and the veil. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it gently. "Two minutes doesn't make a difference – if your mother had had her way, this wouldn't be happening for another year."

"Bad luck to her. I'm glad she figured why we wanted it so quick by herself."

"We've had enough bad luck. It's time for our good luck to begin."

"Good luck?" said Deryn, lifting her veil to one side. "I used up all mine getting into the air force."

Alek kissed her, careful not to smudge her lipstick. "I used up all mine finding you."

Deryn smiled into the kiss. "Wouldn't that be bad luck?"

"Oh, I thought it might be for a while. But then I realized how good you look in suits."

**The Dreaded Alternate Universe: Spy Parody: British Secret Service Agent 004 Deryn Sharp**

_**Live and Let Die - Paul McCartney and Wings**_

_In this ever changing world which we live in…_

British Secret Service Agent 004 Deryn Sharp threw herself under a table as the hail of machine gun bullets disintegrated the wall behind her. Crawling along the floor in a sexual manner (not hard in tight leather pants and a see through black singlet) she cursed B for sending her out on such a stupid mission. _Protect the Austrian ambassador_, B had said. _He's going to stop the war between Germany and Russia. It won't be too hard._

Yeah, until the German Prime Minister, Schickelgruber had been shot between the eyes on a parade. Fucking Russians. Fucking Commies.

British Secret Service Agent 004 Deryn Sharp pulled herself out from under the table, shook her long blonde hair out of her eyes and pulling a small pistol from her cleavage, shot the machine gunner. Her high heels clicked as she ran towards Austrian Ambassador Aleksander Ferdinand's hotel room. She must get him to the English Embassy, or failing that, the Australian Embassy. They were still loyal to the Queen and much better looking than the pasty Brits.

"Austrian Ambassador Aleksander Ferdinand!" she cried, bursting into the room to find Austrian Ambassador Aleksander Ferdinand lying shirtless on his bed, listening to an iPod.

Fucking Austrians.

"Has something gone wrong?" Austrian Ambassador Aleksander Ferdinand asked, but British Secret Service Agent 004 Deryn Sharp was distracted by his sculpted (if slightly pale) Austrian abs.

"British Secret Service Agent 004 Deryn Sharp, is everything OK?"

British Secret Service Agent 004 Deryn Sharp didn't stop to explain. Still ogling his Austrian chest ever-so-subtly, she grabbed her other pistol and threw him a shirt. "We have to go." she said. "Commies are after us."

"Fucking Commies." said Austrian Ambassador Aleksander Ferdinand, tugging his shirt on.

British Secret Service Agent 004 Deryn Sharp and Austrian Ambassador Aleksander Ferdinand ran down the corridor, taking their badass time until they heard gunshots down the passage. Coming closer and closer. British Secret Service Agent 004 Deryn Sharp made a quick decision. She opened the door to a cleaning cupboard.

"In here," she said, and after Austrian Ambassador Aleksander Ferdinand had hurried in, she fit her slender, yet buxom frame in beside him, shut the door and stayed silent.

British Secret Service Agent 004 Deryn Sharp stood, pressed into Austrian Ambassador Aleksander Ferdinand's impressive pectoral muscles and waited, listening to the corridor outside. But all too soon she found herself distracted and intoxicated by Austrian Ambassador Aleksander Ferdinand's manly scent. Austrian Ambassador Aleksander Ferdinand rested his warm hands on her hips. She slid her hands up his chest and around the back of this head, ran them through his hair…was it just her, or was it getting hot in there?

And all too soon they were making out.

Their groans and heavy breathing attracted the Russian spies to their hiding place. The Russians flung open the door - Austrian Ambassador Aleksander Ferdinand and British Secret Service Agent 004 Deryn Sharp turned, guns in hand-

But the Russians were quicker.

Fucking Russians.

Fucking Commies.

**Through the Ruins**

_**Tank! – Yoko Kanno**_

_Ok, I think it's time we blow this thing, get all our stuff together. Three two one…_

"ALEK! ALEK, WHERE ARE YOU?" Deryn stumbled through the wreckage, coughing on the thick, acrid smoke. Bloody Clanker machines…

"Alek!" she cried again, and stumbled over a twisted lump of metal. The battlefield was silent, the soldiers dead. All she could hear was the occasional explosion as a mine detonated, and the ringing in her ears. There was movement in the shards of machinery ahead of her, in the ash and smoke.

"Alek," she whispered, and half ran towards it, ignoring the burning pain up and down her left side. "Alek, is that you?" A blackened, bloody hand emerged from the wreckage. Deryn threw herself to her knees beside it.

"I'm here, I'm here, hold on!" she began to pull the burning hot metal and dirt and (are those body parts? no, no no nonono) off the prince. He slowly appeared, breathing shallowly, his leather coat and thick helmet protecting him from the worst of the heat.

"Deryn?" he croaked. "Please tell me-"

"You bum rag! I thought I lost you!"

"You're – never – going to get – rid of me."

"Stubborn Clanker bastard," she said through tears, as he sat up. "Don't ever do that again."

"It was your idea to draw fire from the infantry."

"I know, but I thought you were gone."

Alek reached over and plucked a fragment of Walker from her hair, leant over to her. "I'm never leaving you."

With a clatter of metal and the crunch of broken glass, Deryn leaned over and brushed her chapped lips against Aleks.

"I told you we should have stayed on the Leviathan." she said.

**Home**

_**My Happiness – Powderfinger**_

_How can I do this to you right now? You're over there and I need you here._

"Your highness, over here! Here! Tell us, what is your business in Scotland – Is there a certain someone here you want to-"

"His royal highness has no comment."

"Mummy, why is that carriage so shiny and fancy?"

"Because a very important person owns it, and-"

"I'm an important person, why don't I get a shiny fancy carriage?"

"Because he was born a king and we were born peasants. Look, there's some lovely mud over there."

"Kitty! Kitty!"

"Rose, don't yell so. It's unladylike."

"I know, but there's this fancy carriage outside the Sharps house. Gold and everything!"

"Your majesty."

"Please, Mrs. Sharp. Call me Alek."

"Well, we are practically family."

"Aleksander."

"Jaspert. Nice to meet you at last." "Same goes, but hurt my sister and I _will_ make you regret it."

"Deryn."

"Alek."

"I missed you."

"I've missed you more."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"Kiss me, you fool!"

Alek obliged.

**It was hard picking (in The Liar) what Alek would call Deryn without it soundin****g either too strong or too weak. It's like that show Deadwood where they drop the f-bomb like there's no tomorrow. In real life they would have said stuff like god, damn and darn but nowadays that just sounds…**

**I also doubt Alek would have learned many English insults (the exact opposite of how languages are learnt today) especially ones directed at women. So I figured liar, whore and bitch would cover all the criteria.**

**ANYWAY, as you're no doubt aware, this is number nine out a planned set of ten. For next times set, I would like you to send in prompts. Any prompt! Leviathan/Harry Potter crossover, Draco gets a crush on Deryn? Awesome. The Leviathan crashes into the ocean and Deryn and Alek re-enact Titanic? Awesome. Alek has to teach Dylan to dance? Cheesy but HELL TO THE YES.**

**Anything. Any POV, characters, setting, time period, "X in the style of Y," ANYTHING! High school AU, Barlow is actually a guy, Hitler gets attacked by a bear while he's in the trenches, Lenin decides to join the army and gets sent to Gallipoli…ANYTHING!**

**Also, why don't you head over to the TVTropes WMG page and add a few. After all, there isn't even the obligatory 'Which character is a Time Lord' guess.**

**Thanks for reading! See you next time!**

**-Nicola.**


	10. Everybody Must Challenge Them

**I agonized over these, I really did. They've all been rewritten completely at least twice. I thought about splitting this into two chapters because it was taking so long…but one long, late chapter is better than two short ones, right?**

**And then my computer broke. Don't worry, I've fixed it!**

**Sorry if I didn't fill your prompt. They were all great ideas but these ones really took my fancy, and my fancy isn't easy to take.**

**WARNINGS: Bad poetry, bad puns and mentions of anarchist lesbians.**

**DISCLAIMER: Not Scott.**

**Everybody Must Challenge Them**

**(alternatively titled)**

**Ten Ways To Torture Me**

**Poems In The Key of Darwin – A Triad.**

**For Penelope Wendy Bing.**

_In which things don't rhyme, and I apologize for my attempts at poetry._

**Bad Limerick One, Which Is Tacky:**

There once was a lass called Sharp

Who got sick of this girly lark.

So she manned up and joined the force.

But there was a plot twist ha-ha, of course!

And now she's knee-deep in clart.

**Bad Limerick Two, Which Doesn't Rhyme:**

There was a guy, name of Alek (_Allek_?)

He was sexist and racist as a Dalek – (_Dallek_?)

He met a guy called Dylan

Who's really a girl, God willin'!

Alek is going to look such a pillock. (_pillak_?)

**Odd Poem Three, Which Is Descriptive:**

There's a book called Behemoth, right?

It's brilliant and exciting, it'll keep you up all night.

Crossdressing girls and princely boys

Anarchist lesbians, all kinds of joys.

The Ottomans and Russia look to be staying together

Why won't Alek and Deryn have a roll in the heather?

**NINJAS!**

**For JayBird 45**

_In which the true __origin of Ninjas is discussed._

"Ninjas?"

"NINJAS!" "…What are ninjas, Alek?" "I have it right here in this encyclopedia."

"…"

"…Hmmm."

"Well?"

"Odd."

"WHAT DOES IT SAY?"

"It says they're stage hands – uh oh."

"What now?"

"We took our eyes off them."

"So?" "Ninjas are like Weeping Angels. Never take your eyes off them, even for a-Dylan!"

"I'm behind this chair."

"What – you're hiding?"

"ALEK! BEHIND YOU!"

**His Royal Tightpants**

**For Scytherian Poetry**

_In which anachronism happens. Because it had to. Dammit, Jack._

Deryn wasn't sure what to expect upon opening the door. She'd heard the strange muffled sobs, and knocked softly. There'd been no reply.

So she'd opened the door slowly, just in case Alek was engaged in some kind of activity that required him to be naked, or was engaged in coitus, naked, or getting engaged while naked. So really, her only expectation was that Alek was naked, and can you blame our favourite crossdressing Scot for that? Alek was _weird_.

Not as weird as Deryn apparently.

Alek wasn't naked, far from it. He was layered quite a bit, in a stripy long sleeved shirt (anachronistic) with leather, fingerless gloves (anachronistic, as it looked like he'd nicked them off the set of Doctor Who when the Master was hanging around), and a strange shirt that looked sort of like a 'T' with a pentagram and the word, 'SLIPKNOT,' emblazoned on it in some godawful font. So, not anachronistic? Over this delightful ensemble Alek had thrown on a thick black jacket with rips and badges. And there was a ridiculously long, stripy scarf, and some more badges, and a lot of zips, but Deryn was distracted by Alek's pants.

On his top half, Alek was all wrapped up. Snug as a bug in a rug as my mother might say, if she hadn't abandoned me at Woolworth's last Tuesday because I forgot to pick up the milk.

So, snug as a bug in a rug. But on the bottom half…well…

Alek was wearing very, very tight pants. Get your tightest pants. Put them on. Get in the washing machine. Put the machine on hot. Get out, stumble around. Clamber into the dryer. Put it on super hot. Get out. Ring triple-0. When you get home from hospital you'll know. That's how tight Alek's pants were. And he wasn't wearing anything else on his bottom half, except for a stupid studded belt and an odd black pair of shoes.

Deryn blinked, and put on her boy voice. Yes, that's where we were when the scene began. She tapped on the still open door.

"Alek." she said. "Are you ok?"

Alek looked at her, and oh holy God there was black _stuff _around his eyes.

"Have you been in a fight?"

And what was wrong with his hair? It was all pushed to one side, and drooped over the left side of his face like a depressed horses tail. Deryn dropped to her knees beside him and rested a hand on Alek's shoulder. Or, rested a hand on the seven layers of badges, zips and material that covered Alek's shoulder. There was no tingle up her arm, for once. What a relief.

"Alek, what's wrong?" Deryn shook him lightly. "Alek – oh." he had little black plugs in his ears.

"How could this happen to meeeeeeee?" Alek sang softly.

Deryn raised a badass eyebrow. She stood. "I'm going to go get Doctor Barlow." She turned. She took a step towards the door. "Unless you tell me why you're so upset."

Alek pulled one of the plugs out. A tinny voice filled the room. "WHEN I WAS. A YOUNG BOY. MY FATHER-"

"I'm-"

"Yes?" Deryn asked.

"I'm-"

"Hmm?"

"VOLGER DOESN'T LIKE MY HAIRCUT!"

**The Flightanic**

**For Music Antoinette**

_In which there are horrible puns, for which I will not apologize._

_The Atlantic Ocean, April 12th, 1912._

"HOW on EARTH did we end up HERE?" shouted Alek.

Deryn continued to kick, concentrating all her energy on keeping her head above the freezing water. Finally, she gathered enough breath to speak.

"What, in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean?"

Alek nodded, kneeling carefully on the fabricated door that had come bobbing by them. Deryn sucked in another breath, the briny water compressing her chest worse than any corset. Finally,

"Simple! The Leviathan hit an iceberg!"

Alek had been snoozing when said Incident had occurred (hereby termed the Iceberg Incident) and looked slightly more puzzled than usual. Silly Clankers.

"An Iceberg…hit our _airship_?"

"Very tall, very pointy iceberg. Happens more often than you'd think."

Silence fell between our favourite duo, and instead they listened to the cry of the gulls, the lap of the waves and the distant song of a whale Deryn later identified as _Celinius_ _Dionus_.

"Alek." said Deryn.

"Yes, Dylan?"

"It's been half an hour. It's your turn to get in the water."

"But-"

"I can't feel my legs," said Deryn. Then, remembering she was a boy, she frowned and added, "Or my other parts."

"Oh, fikkin." Alek slid into the water, shuddering as tendrils of cold made their way up his body.

_Celinius_ _Dionus_ was getting closer. Deryn _really_ wished it wasn't. Those whales could get loud.

"Where's the rest of the crew then?" asked Alek, looking sort of dashing and sort of like a bedraggled Tim Minchin.

True, the rest of the crew wasn't there. They were still on the Leviathan, trying to plug the leak. After the iceberg the Leviathan had shot across the sky like an untied balloon, somehow only dislodging Alek and Deryn. Physics, you know? No one gets it.

Deryn smiled, trying to look reassuring. "They'll come get us."

"It's been half an hour."

"No it hasn't." Deryn crossed her legs and tried not to shiver. Of _course_ the Leviathan would come back.

"It's been half an hour."

"Fuck off, no it hasn't."

**The Beetles – A Glee Crossover**

**For my-silver-lining**

_In which…Yeah, I don't know either. Also, it's Friday. Fun._

"So…beetles." said Dylan, poking at one with a stick. "What do these do, Doctor?"

Barlow smiled. "They're flash weapons. We use them to disorientate the enemy – similar to your smoke bombs, Alek."

"They're not my smoke bombs."

"The Count's then."

Alek peered into the terrarium where the dozen or so black, glossy bugs scuttled. "How do they work? Do they stick on peoples backs or-"

"Oh. Like this." Barlow (gloveless) reached into the box and picked out a beetle. She tossed it onto the cabin floor, where it landed on its back, but soon righted itself.

"Where am I?" asked the beetle. That's right, the beetle. "Mr. Schue, where are we?"

"Unit Rachel," said Doctor Barlow in a clear, slow voice. "Operation Disorient."

The beetle – Rachel? – stopped scurrying and twitched an antenna. "Operation Disorient." it repeated. Then,

"Seven AM, waking up gotta be fresh, gotta get my bowl gotta-"

"NO!" screamed Dylan and Alek, and they fled.

I'm not a bug fan of Glee.

**On Wednesdays, They Wear Pink**

**For Holly Marie Fowl**

_In which an AU is just that, an AU. And ANARCHIST LESBIANS._

Aleksander Ferdinand was starting at a new school, and with a name like Aleksander Ferdinand, you know it wasn't going to be easy. His top five problems were:

**1.** His name was Aleksander Ferdinand. He really wanted to be called Alek, but it hadn't caught on at his last five schools (Forks High, Avalon Heights, Rydell High, Degrassi High or Hillridge High) and so it probably wouldn't catch on here. Or there. Wherever he was going this time.

**2.** He was a redhead. This would have been a bigger problem in Australia. Thankfully he was in Chicago.

**3.** He had an Austrian accent, which everyone assumed was a German accent. And in a tolerant and understanding country like the good ole US of A, that meant everyone thought he was a Nazi. Or a Communist. Which is stupid. Only Russians are Communist.

**4.** He had to wear glasses, which made him look both intelligent (he was) and like an insomniac owl.

**5.** It was actually Aleksander Muriel Ferdinand. Yeah. His parents were kind of dicks.

Aleksander Ferdinand liked to make lists.

Apart from being dicks, his parents were Nazi Communist Spies in the American government, also known as Austrian Ambassadors. Aleksander Ferdinand had been to fifteen schools since he'd arrived in America when he was ten. Now aged seventeen, and still with an Austrian accent for some reason, he knew starting at a new school was hard. He knew this new school wouldn't be any different.

He was wrong.

Aleksander Ferdinand was often wrong, despite his glasses, owlishness and intelligence. He thought he'd be teased for his name, called a Nazi, called a Communist, called a Cazi Nommunist (it's happened), called a ranga (but he was in Chicago, so no), but he was wrong.

In homeroom a lovely fellow befriended him by the unfortunate name of Kirk Newsome. Kirk Newsome was a Cool Loser, good looking and funny enough to be worth being friends with, but brave enough to be quirky in a stereotypical way. Kirk Newsome introduced Aleksander Ferdinand to everyone- the sportos, the motorheads, geeks, sluts, bloods, wastoids, dweebies, dickheads, the band, the prydonians, the orchestra, the drama club and the soccer team. They all thought Alek (for they had begun to call him that) was a righteous dude.

The morning passed in a blur of smiles, nods, high-fives and "So, how's socialism going for you guys?" Soon it was lunch, the most important lesson of the day.

That's a bad, tired joke. I'm sorry. So, so sorry.

The Cool Losers sat round the table. Aleksander-no, Alek, Kirk, Lillit the lesbian anarchist, a guy who insisted on being called Bovril (real name Lawrence), a car obsessed, short kid called Harry Saxon ("Call me Sexon," he'd said, wiggling his eyebrows) and a tall thin girl called Nora who appeared to be a genius. Kind of like me.

"And over there, that's Jaspert Sharp. He's the quarterback," said Kirk.

"Is that girl next to him his girlfriend?" asked Alek.

"No." said Lilit. "That's Deryn Sharp, his little sister. She's head cheerleader, valedictorian and does car commercials-"

"In Japan," Nora finished in a bored voice. "God, Lil. It's not that amazing."

Deryn Sharp was hot, hawt, heiss in Celsius or Fahrenheit. She had long blonde hair, an ample chest and great legs, as shown by her skirt, which doubled as a belt.

"You're drooling." said Kirk. "Don't even think about it. She's out of your league."

Alek looked for a few more minutes, watching her...Then he nodded.

"Yeah, you're probably right."

And so he went out with Nora instead.

**Jurassic Entente**

**For LittleSpark**

_In which I exhibit the ferocity of my nerdiness, about something rather…unexpected._

Deryn and Alek were at the North American Zoo-International. It was the best zoo in the world (according to Americans) and the best zoo in America (according to the rest of the world).

What the North American Zoo-International did was export North American fabs internationally, everywhere from Australia to Bulgaria to Canada to Denmark to England to Finland to Greece to Holland to Iceland to Japan to Kazakhstan to Luxembourg to Morocco to Nicaragua to Oman to Portugal to Qatar, but not to Russia or anything after it, because you couldn't trust those Commie bastards.

What the North American Zoo-International exported was Dinosaurs. Triceratops, Brontosaurus, Stegosaurus, Pterodactyls, Tyrannosauruses, you name it.

And right now, Deryn and Alek were running away from a T-Rex, which was clutching a copy of the American Constitution and protesting.

"RRAAARL! IT'S IN MY RIGHTS! I CAN BEAR ARMS!"

"YOU CAN'T BEAR ARMS WITH THOSE LITTLE ARMS!" shouted Deryn.

The T-Rex fab glanced down at his small, clawed limbs.

"I'LL HAVE TO TAKE YOUR ARMS THEN!

"This is WORSE THAN FRANCE!" yelled Alek.

The pair ran on, and on. Always running. They did a ridiculous amount of running.

**Straight As A Board**

**For ReadrOfBooks**

_In which Dylan convinces people he is straight. Sort of._

"One question."

"Yes, Alek?"

"Did you like kissing Lilit?"

"Was alright."

"Alright?"

"She was a pretty good kisser. Fantastic kisser. I don't know, I don't really go in for kissing girls."

"…"

"…"

"What do you-"

"I mean um, girls like her. Anarchists. Ones that get ideas about being out of the kitchen and not…um…having children all the time."

"Exactly! A woman's place in the home, not out on the front lines. Extraordinary as Lilit was, it would not have ended well, if she'd been in a proper position of power."

"She was in a-"

"It may have looked like it, but I saw Zaven was the real brains behind the operation."

"What about Nene?"

"She had some ideas, I'll grant you, but they were outdated. Stupid. I mean…using pepper?"

"THAT WAS MY IDEA! AND IT WORKED! WHAT ARE YOU – Oh yeah, a Hapsburg…"

"Well, then it was brilliant. Dylan…why do you look so mad?"

"BECAUSE I AM BLOODY MAD!"

"Why are you mad – stop shouting! It's too loud."

"Alek, stop insulting girls. They're just as capable as women."

"But you were just-"

"Shut up."

"You just-"

"Shut up."

"You just-"

"GARGH! I AM A GIRL, ALEK! FEEL MY BREASTS!"

**Flying To Do – A Twilight Crossover**

**For** **limegreenwordmachine**

_In which there is a balloon, a sparkling Mormon, an Austrian moron and a pretty bitching honeymoon._

Once Upon A Time, there was a young couple, a boy and a girl. The boy was called Alek and the girl was called Deryn. Alek and Deryn were funny, and smart and brave. They'd fought wars together, inspired revolution. And in the end, they'd fallen in love. It had been an epic romance, the kind of thing that would make Shakespeare throw down his quill. Don't even get me started on the wedding.

And because Alek and Deryn had made so many friends through their wartime adventures, their friends had all put in for the most awesome honeymoon ever, in the best country in the world. Unfortunately, Australia was closed due to flooding, and so was England, and so was Gallifrey…so they went around America instead.

They were staying in a quaint little town called Forks, where it rained an awful lot. It was like Glasgow, so Deryn thought it wonderful. The couple was flying above the town in their hot air balloon when they spotted it. Or rather, them. A couple sitting high up in a tree. Up a tree and stuck, from the way they were sitting.

"Take the balloon up ten feet!" called Alek, hanging over the edge of the basket.

"Yes dear," said Deryn, throwing a sandbag over the side. Soon they had drawn level with the couple – a plain looking girl with long brown hair, and a red headed boy who looked strung out on something. The pair didn't even look at them as the large, multicoloured balloon hovered less than a foot away from them. They didn't even blink as the balloon ascended and was replaced by a bright purple basket, with you know, fire in it. Deryn was about to offer assistance when the girl spoke.

"Oh…Edward." the girl said.

"Oh…Bella." the boy said.

"Oh, Edward."

"Oh, Bella."

"Oh, Edward."

"Oh, Bella."

"Oh Edward."

"Oh Bella."

"Edward."

"Bella."

They leaned in as if to kiss, but then the boy – Edward? – threw himself backwards, nearly falling out of the tree.

"Dammit Bella, it's TOO DANGEROUS!"

"But I love you Edward!"

Alek looked at Deryn. Deryn looked at Alek. Deryn tossed out a few more sandbags and let the wind carry them far, far away from that weird couple. Who had time to sit and stare at each other when there was flying to do?

**The Man Cold**

**For ThornyRose**

_In which Alek is sick, in a way that isn't reminiscent of Sheldon Cooper. At all._

The sound of the world ending is the monstrous anger of guns. It is torrential rain, thunder and lighting. It is the hoof beats of the Four Horsemen. It is the sound of drums. It is, quite possibly the Ride of Valkyries. I'd rather listen to the Beatles as the seas turn to blood and boil, preferably Abbey Road as the stars fall down, but you know. Some nice, anti-Semitic Wagner will do, I guess.

But to Deryn Sharp, the sound of the world ending is her husband sneezing. Not because he's actually dying, or because she really, really loves him (which she does, but shut up) but because…well…

"Deryn," said a pathetic voice. "Deryn, I'm – sniff – I'm sick. Deryn?"

"Good morning to you, Alek." said Deryn, and she shoved a pillow over her head.

Alek brushed his hand along her side. "Really sick. Can I have a cup of tea?"

"Make it yourself."

"Schatzi…"

"Oh, fine." Deryn sat up, rearranged her nightgown and stood up, wincing at the chill floor. She padded down two flights of stairs, made two cups of tea (black with two for her, white with none for Alek) and carried them carefully back up to the top room. She had just set Alek's cup down on his bedside table when a pathetic voice, choked with…something…came up from the blankets.

"Deryn?"

"Yes. Alek."

"Can I have some toast? Just one piece."

"Anything else?"

"Buttered."

"Hmmm."

"Please."

Deryn glared at the only part of Alek visible – a tuft of auburn hair.

"Fine." She turned on her heel and set off down the stairs again.

A piece of toast, another cup of tea, an extra blanket and a bottle of cough medicine later, Deryn poked and prodded at Alek until he staggered downstairs and made himself a nest on the couch. Deryn built him a roaring fire. She put on his favourite record. She made more tea. She made lunch, despite the fact he was a much better cook than her.

She repressed the urge to punch him.

Alek sniffled. Deryn picked up a book and sat beside him, somehow contriving to do it violently.

"…Deryn." Alek coughed weakly.

"Alek."

"I think I need to go back to bed."

"OH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, ALEK! YOU HAVE THE SNIFFLES!"

Another bottle of cough medicine, an extra blanket, another cup of tea and a half eaten piece of toast ("'S too cold.") later, Deryn had helped Alek back upstairs. He threw himself onto their bed, taking up all of the mattress and blankets.

"Call me if you need anything." grumbled Deryn, marching downstairs. She'd just hit the bottom step when-

"Deryn?"

"GARGH! WHAT?"

Cups of tea, cutting up his lunch and dinner for him, reading to him, extra blankets, taking said extra blankets away, making toast that was too cold or burnt – it's TOAST, Alek, it's meant to be crunchy!

All day.

Deryn Ferdinand-Sharp fell into bed beside her husband, who was curled up amongst the debris of his terrible illness – toast crumbs and tea leaves.

"I love you," he said, only a trace of whininess left in his voice.

"Don't even start." she said. "In a few months you're going to do all that for me, and you're not going to complain. Not once."

"Why?" asked Alek, his voice miraculously clear and non-pathetic. "What's happening in a few months?"

Deryn switched off the light, turned on her side and rested her hand on her stomach. "Oh, nothing," she said, smiling in the dark. "Go to sleep. You'll feel better in the morning."

**Not sure if Man Colds exist in America but I know the phenomenon does. You know when your dad or brother or any other male acquaintance get sick and it's just the WORST cold EVER? They have a fever of a hundred and ninety degrees, chills, and a hideous cough…Yeah, and all they really have is a sniffle? That's a Man Cold. Spread it. The word, that is.**

**Schatzi = sweetheart, dear, so on and so forth.**

**I'm probably wrong in recalling this but y'all probably know that in WWII it was the Axis, made up of Germany, Italy and Japan versus the Allies, who were Britain, France, Australia, New Zealand, Russia (sort of) and the USA. Eventually.**

**In WWI it was the Triple Entente of Tsarist/Provisional Russia (until 1917), France, Britain and the Commonwealth against the Triple Alliance of Germany, Austria-Hungary and Italy.**

**If it all sounds like a weird spy show to you, it gets weirder. Italy had a secret treaty with the Russians, meaning they wouldn't attack each other. This nullified Russia and Germany's involvement with each other, even though the Queen of Russia was of course, German.**

**ANYWAY, that's why Jurassic Entente was called er…Jurassic Entente. Even though the US wasn't actually a member, they did fight for them. Obviously. So I kind of didn't need to type that, but now you know something new. That's important.**

**I have to apologize again for my limericks. I can write Sestinas but not limericks. Is that irony or just sad?**

**Also, SignedAnon? I have written two – count them, **_**TWO**_** – Doctor Who/Leviathan crossovers. I also write Doctor Who fanfiction, on a different account, as it's **_**very**_** different to this, more kid-friendly stuff. You're just being **_**greedy**_**. However, because I'm nice, slightly mad and very excited for the new season, there is a Doctor Who reference in EACH DRABBLE. Who ever catches all of them and tells me in a review gets a very special prize. And I mean, VERY special :D**

**So it's been a very fun ride and I've really enjoyed writing all these drabbles. I really hope you liked them too. Why don't you tell me all about it…in a review!**

**Thanks for reading and all your wonderful support. See you next time.**

**-Nicola.**


	11. Everybody Loves A Roundup

**Hey howdy hey, deputies! Inspired by Scott's Goliath art reveals and a few spoilers that I heard from a friend, I'm back to finish 10Tens! Again!**

**This week is the last week for this story. Instead of one theme, I've taken the theme from the other 10 chapters and written a new drabble/double drabble/oneshot for each. **

**WARNING: Spoilers for Goliath (just in the new characters, not the events) in the first drabble, so you may want to skip 'A Pigeon Named Morris.' That's why I put it last; despite the fact 10 People Who Wanted Deryn Sharp is the first set. Enjoy!**

**Also, badly written Russian accents and puns ho!**

**DISCLAIMER: Not Scott.**

**Everybody Loves A Roundup!**

**(Alternatively titled)**

**Ten Ways To Get More Reviews**

**10 Songs (Beatles Style)**

_**Maggie Mae. It goes for a grand total of 40 seconds.**_

"_Oh, dirty Maggie Mae, they are taking her away…"_

_You're a woman._

"I'm-I'm a girl."

_Do you know what this means? For you and your family?_

"Please, please, please let me do this. I love- I need to this, I need to fly."

_What have you done to yourself? To your brother's career?_

"You have to understand, I need this. I won't tell anyone, I swear-"

_Get back, little girl. Go home._

"Please-"

_Get back to where you belong._

Deryn Sharp sat up, covers falling away and leaving her arms bare in the cold Scottish air. She swallowed, ignoring the hot tears that rolled down her cheeks. She hadn't even made it past the front gate.

…

And a thousand miles away on a barren glacier, a young prince trudged towards the downed _Leviathan_.

**10 Ways To Tell Everyone You're a Girl**

_**We'll Meet Again**_

_In which highly specific references are made_

The chilly air burned Alek's throat as he sucked it down. He'd been trudging up this bloody hill for what felt like eternity (actual time: approximately three minutes), after climbing up and down another hill. Scotland was nothing but hills. Hills and bagpipes. Hills and bagpipes and kilts, because stereotypes are an appropriate way of describing a rich, varied culture such as the one that exists in Scotland.

Also, haggis.

Alek trudged, his boots crunching on the gravel path. He kept his head down, focusing on his breathing. In, step, out, step. In, step, out, step.

He was so busy watching his own feet walk that he bonked his head on a low-hanging tree branch.

Perhaps he could take a break.

After a quick nap and a pint of lager (wait, that's England) Alek set off again and soon found himself on the doorstep of a sturdy, large farmhouse. It was quite stereotypical. Chickens pecked about the driveway. A cow that was fabricated to be as large as a carthorse mooed. Kilts flapped on the washing line. It was calm. It was peaceful. For a second Alek thought he heard a strangely accented voice say, "How's the serenity?"

Alek coughed, smoothed his hair. _Sharp Farm_, the letterbox read. Casa de Sharp would have sounded better. Whatever. He raised an arm and knocked on the door. Finally, after all these years. He would see his old friend Dylan Sharp again. There were a lot of Sharps in Scotland. Alek had visited at least a dozen of them. But this was the right one. Alek could tell by the…the uh…He just felt it, OK?

Finally, the door creaked open.

"Hello, young lady!" said Alek. "My name is Aleksander Ferdinand. I fought in the Great War with Dylan Sharp. Does he live here? He better."

The girl, tall with short, blonde hair, blinked. She licked her lips, smoothed down her skirt.

"This is awkward." She said. "You better come in."

**10 Ways To Make Friends And Influence People (100 words)**

_**Really? Again?**_

_Doctor Who (11__th__)_

"Are you _kidding_ me?" asked Deryn.

"This is a coincidence." Said the Doctor. "I don't like coincidences. They don't like me."

"So, Doctor. Are you still with the Master?"

"Doctor, who's this?" asked Amy. "And who's the Master? Like the Corsair?"

"Amy this is…Indefinite Boy, and Mister-"

"I hope you're not travelling alone with this man. He's a _**homosexual**_, you know. You can tell by the bow tie."

"I knew it!"

"Shut up, Rory! You're supposed to be dead."

"Hey…" Amy peered at Deryn. "Why are you wearing that uniform? Aren't you a girl?"

"Oh, for the love of God…"

**10 Ways To Get Jiggy With It**

_**Stayin' Alive (The BeeGees)**_

_Uh-uh-uh-uh._

You know the CPR song.  
It's a statement, not a question because the CPR song is two things:

1. Ironic, because it's called Stayin' Alive.

2. One of the best songs to strut to in the world.

And even though the BeeGees hadn't even been born at this point in history (hell, Lenin hadn't even popped his clogs) Alek hummed it under his breath and strutted like a ripped, red-haired, royal peacock.

It was a good day. He was in love with a cross-dressing Scot, lived in the second best city in the world (London) and was absolutely loaded because he was…well, ripped, red-haired and absolutely royal. Ah, the life of a Constitutional Mother. I mean, Monarch.

Alek strutted and hummed, hummed and strutted. Best of all, later he would propose to his lady-boy-friend. Life was good.  
Alek strutted and hummed, strummed and hutted. Then a thought (which rarely came to Alek) struck him.

Oh no.

Oh woe.

Oh dearie boy me…

What if Deryn said _no_?

Alek stopped strutting. A line of men who'd been following him, copying his style ran into each other. Alek didn't notice, having left his brain somewhere in the Alps. What-

What if Deryn said no?

She wouldn't, would she?

But she was so – ugh – independent and so – shudder - modern. What if-

Alek gulped and tried to keep strutting. He looked, to a nearby organ grinders monkey, as if he was doing a drunken chimpanzee caricature.

Racist, red-haired and royal. Some things never change. The monkey shook its fist at him, but Alek was deep in thought (for once) and didn't notice. She'd have to say yes.

She had to.

And if she didn't?

Well, he'd just keep on strutting.

**10 Ways To Define Drabbles**

_Farewell_

"I never thought it would end like this."

"Me neither. How did you want to – you know-"

"In my sleep. At a very advanced age."

"Would you want to grow old?"

"Wie bitte?"

"I never saw the point in old age. Creaky bones, your skin turns into paper...you can't hear, can't see, can't run. You can't fly."

"Growing old isn't so bad. My parents were happy to, I think. Well. No chance now."

"Sorry. Hmmm. Well, there is that."

"Sorry?"

"I was just thinking it wouldn't be so bad if you had children and grandchildren around. Scores of them."  
"A dozen of them at least – what's that?"  
"Air raid siren. Come on. This is it."

"Just like that?"

"Just like this. I have to go. I'm on the bats, if you…or Volger could-"

"I-"

"I understand. He's like a dad to you."

"Yes. Oh."

"Alek. I've-"

"Yes?"

"…Um, auf wiedersehen."

"Let's go with au revoir."

**10 Ways To Say I Love You**

_Desperately_

"Come on, come on."

Slap, slap, twice on each cheek. Smack of hard hand hitting damp skin. Nothing. No red handprint.

"Wake up!"

He's not breathing. Water trickles from his hair, silver droplets on his eyelashes. Press on the ribs – there's water in his lungs. He's drowning on dry land. This shouldn't have happened.

"Breathe, please."

This shouldn't happen.

Turn his head. Water pours from his nose, from his mouth.

"Come on!"

He's not breathing. Breathe. He needs to breathe. Tilt his head back,

Remember, and then-

-don't hesitate. Inhale.

Cover his mouth. Breathe for him.

"Come on, breathe! Come on, Dylan!"

**10 Ways Wacky Westerfeld Could Wander Off On**

"_Leon Trotsky will make an appearance in Goliath."_

New York, February 1917

Shucks, but New Yawk sure were purdy in the wintertime. Snow would blanket the buildings, making them into igloos of ice and steel, clean and white. They would gleam in the weak sun. The roads became makeshift slides and the planes that landed in the Hudson were frozen there until the thaw.

Unfortunately, it weren't wintertime no more, not really. The snow had become muddy, then slushy, then covered in beasties leavings, then mixed quite thoroughly. Still, Deryn Sharp thought the busy, loud city was beautiful – an organism where the blood and neurons and electrons were people and fabs, and the body was the mass of asphalt and steel and iron. Also, hot dogs.

Alek and Deryn (HELL YEAH he'd figured it out by then. He isn't that stupid [citation needed.]) shuffled arm in arm down the bustling sidewalk, passing hawkers, hookers and messenger hawks. The Americans didn't use terns. They weren't big enough. Above the din of buskers singing about Eskimos named Quinn and saying they weren't going to work on Maggie's farm no more, there was a fanfare.

Alek tilted his head. Bovril stuck his head out of Deryn's satchel and copied him. They looked more alike than you'd think.

"That sounds Russian," said Alek. "Come on, let's go have a look."

He hurried off ahead of Deryn, slipping and sliding along the path.

"Young missy," said a newspaper vendor. "Would you buy a newspaper? It's got something about the Russians, but I can't read well, me."

"You're a newspaper vendor." Said Deryn.

The vendors name was Jim. It was cold. He was poor, and Catholic – a bad combination – and had six kids and a wife to feed. He'd lost his brother in the war. Also, he was stuck in a crappy fanfic with a punchline that just doesn't pay off.

"Just buy the dang paper," he growled, thrusting it (oh yes) into Deryn's hands.

Delighted with her free paper, Deryn skipped down the street, slipped over – "Bugger, it's Rasputin all over again!" – and decided to stay where she was and read her free, delightful paper. People were so _nice_ in New York.

'_**REVOLUTION IN RUSSIA! CZAR ABDICATES!'**_

Wow, that was tacky. And underneath the poorly formatted headline, there was the byline '_Lvov spreads the love – Duma in Charge.'_

Huh. Deryn got up, brushed the slush-and-mush off her bum, and ran off in search of Alek. She found him at the corner of…69th and 42nd Street because they're both inherently funny numbers, talking to a guy in a pretty funky cap, with a goatee and wild hair. It was so wild his cap was clinging on for dear, Russian life (which is completely different to dear, American life and has more vodka and Cossack dancing.)

"And zat iz vy ve vish to instill commoo-neezim into ze Muzzerland."

Deryn blinked. "I did not understand a word you just said."

"Apologies." The man cleared his throat. His hair tangled. "I said, we wish to install communism in Russia by overthrowing the Tzar. It will be hard work, but worth it. We will create a socialist utopia."

Deryn nodded and Alek smiled. "Mr Trotsky was just telling me about how all industrialised nations will one day be communist. Everyone will be equal and free from-"

"Wait wait." Said Deryn. "By Tzar, do you mean Czar?"

Mr Trotsky inclined his head. "Da. Tzar, or Czar, Tsar…he has many titles, but cares nothing for ze proletariat. One day ve vill-"

Wordlessly, Deryn held up the newspaper. Mr Trotsky leaned forward, peered at it and swore. In Russian. Deryn filed the word away for later use.

"Oh, hell. Vladimir's going to kill me."

**10 Ways To Get To First Base**

_Homosexuality Does Not Work That Way_

"I'm a girl, Alek."  
Alek pulled away from Dylan. "Wh-what?"  
He-she smiled, showing the gap in his front teeth. "I'm a girl. See, you're not a homosexual, you're just-"

"A _girl_?" Alek took his hands off Dylan's waist. "Oh, ew! I kissed a girl!"

**10 Ways to Torture Me**

_**The Man Cold: Deryn's Revenge**_

"_I've always sort of wondered about Deryn's 'monthlies'" – Kill It With A Flaming Machete."_

_Haven't we all wondered?_

Alek sat outside Dylan's room, drumming his fingers on the fabricated wood floor. Da-da-da-da. Da-da-da-da.

"Are you nearly done, Dylan?" he called. "Dr. Barlow seemed rather insistent."

"Tazza can – uh – wait for his walk."

"Come on Dylan. Flight suits aren't that complicated."

"The um…button is stuck. Just a minute."

"I'll help you." Alek stood up, rested a hand on the door. "Can I come in?"

"Bugger!"

Alek frowned. He knew Scots usually wore kilts but honestly. Trousers weren't that difficult. They had more pockets, too.

"That's it, I'm coming in." Alek turned the handle, opened the door and saw….

Dylan Sharp trying to pull on his left boot. He was making such an effort the tips of his fingers were smeared with either boot polish or blood. Any which way, Alek was impressed at the effort.

_And we shall keep wondering…_

**10 People Who Wanted Deryn Sharp**

_**A Pigeon Named Morris**_

_Nikola Tesla/Pigeons/Deryn/Dylan_

He had a tremendous sense of style.  
Oiled hair, combed so the strands lay flat like a ploughed field.  
Crisp suit, so starched it crackled like lightning whenever he moved.  
Bow tie. It too was starched to the point where if it nicked his throat, death would be immediate.  
His shoes were so shiny when you looked into them you could see not only your face but also your hearts desire.  
Be still, ladies. There's more. On top of the hair and cracking suits, he had a moustache, as oiled and stiff as his hair yet it curved up at the ends, coyly. That is, if moustaches can be coy.

His was.

He looked a little like David Bowie, without the glitter.  
He was Nikola Tesla, and there are three things you should know about Nikola Tesla.

1. He was Russian. See point two for more information.

2. Therefore, crazy and awesome.

3. He quite possibly had a sexual fixation on pigeons. See point one.

He also, in the Leviathan Universe, held the plans (and key) to the LARGEST DOOMSDAY DEVICE in the WORLD. In fact, it was the ONLY DOOMSDAY DEVICE in the WORLD, as the atomic bomb had not yet been invented.

Nikola Tesla strutted down the corridor of the Leviathan, suit crackling like a popcorn machine, shoes revealing his current desire to be a pigeon named Morris. His hair stayed resolutely still.

He was bored. He was brilliant, and owner of the LARGEST DOOMSDAY DEVICE in the WORLD, yet. Well. Bored, board, bord.  
Poor Nikola missed his pigeons.

"Coo coo ca-coo," he sighed, his breath barely disturbing his moustache. Suddenly, poor pigeonless Nikola passed a porthole.

He stopped.  
With a snap, crackle, pop and change in the reflection on his shoes, Nikola backed up and looked out the small window. There, in the azure sky and puffy clouds was one of the airmen, wearing a body kite. Even at this distance, Nikola could make out a huge smile and ruffled blonde hair. What a free spirit – not a drop of oil would touch those locks, they were perfect in their tousledness.

The kite struts looked like wings. Pigeon wings. Nikola gasped with such force his moustache was sucked up his left nostril and for a few minutes his world was made up of fire, blood and pain.  
Also, oxygen deprivation.  
Still pigeonless, and now slightly ruffled, Nikola looked out the window again. The airman was coming back into the ship. Nikola watched open-mouthed, his moustache askew. He memorized the airman – blonde hair, blue eyes, breasts and…wings.

Nikola Tesla had a feeling he wouldn't be bored much longer.

**Yes. Any questions? See any references? You better ask, because there's more in there than you think. Australians, if you miss the one I'm thinking of, I'll be so disappointed. So this is the end of 10Tens until Goliath comes out, which isn't that far away!**

**Yeah, so drop me a review, I'm always happy to chat and…see you on the other side!**

**-Nicola.**


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